THE chaste and LOST LOVERS: Lively shadowed in the persons of Arcadius and Sepha, and illustrated with the several stories of Haemon and Antigone, Eramio and Amissa, Phaon and Sapph, Delithason and Verista.  
Being a description of several LOVERS smiling with delight, and with hopes fresh as their youth, and fair as their beauties in the beginning of their Affections, and covered with blood and Horror in the conclusion.  
To this is added the Contestation betwixt Bacchus and Diana, and certain Sonnets of the Author to AURORA.  
Digested into three Poems, by Will. Bosworth, Gent.  
— Me quoque  
Impune volare, & sereno  
Calliope dedit ire coelo.  
London, Prnted for William Shears, and are to be sold at the sign of the Bible in St. Paul's churchyard, 1653.   

To the true Lover of all good Learning, the Honourable John Finch, Esq  
SIR,  
IF Poetry be truly conceived to carry some Divinity with it; and Poets, on what Subjects soever their Fancies have discoursed, have been intitaled Divine, as the Divine Mr. Spencer, the Divine Ronsard, the Divine Ariosto; how much more properly may they be esteemed to be Divine, who have made chaste Love their Argument, which is a fire descended from Heaven, and (Habitual in its Action) is always ascending and aspiring to it: This is that Love which Xenophon doth distinguish from the sensual, and doth call it The heavenly Venus, and with this our Poet being powerfully inspired hath breathed forth these happy raptures, to declare, That Love and the Muses are so near of kin, that the greatest Poets are the greatest Lovers.  
And Sir, although there is no man a more absolute master of his passions than yourself, and therefore you cannot be said to be subjected unto Love, yet it shall be no dishonour to you to acknowledge yourself to be a lover of the Muses. In this confidence I have made bold to tender unto you these Poems, the work of a young Gentleman of 19 years of Age, who had he lived, might have been as well the Wonder as the Delight of the Arts, and been advanced by them amongst the highest in the Temple of Fame. The Myrtle and the cypress Groves, which he made more innocent by his Love, shall remember, and the music of the Birds shall teach every tree to repeat to one another his chaste complaint, and the flourish of the trees shall endeavour to raise unto Heaven his name, which they shall wear ingraved on their leaves. These are only his first flights, his first fruits, the early flowers of his youth; flowers they are, but so sweetly violent, that as their Beauties do arrest our eyes, so (I hope) their perfume will continue through many Ages to testify the Influence of your protection, and the most graceful resentments of him who is  
Sir, Your most humble and devoted servant, R. C.   

To the Reader.  
THis book hath the fate which the modesty of Antiquity did assign to their books, which is, not to be extant till the Death of the Auth●…r, declining thereby the p●…esumption of an assumed and a saucy Immortality, and owing this new life, which by their remaining labours they received, to the Benefit and Commendation of Posterity. These Poems are secure in themselves, and neither fear the tongue of the Detractor, nor desire the praise of the encomiastic, their one worth can best speak their own merit, but this it shall be lawful for me to insert, that in one Book and of so small a bulk you shall seldom see more cont●…ined, 
— He doth swell  
Not with th'how much he writeth, but th'how well.  You shall find in this System the Idea of Poetry at large, and in one garland all the flowers on the Hill of Parnasus, or on the banks of Helicon.  
The high, the fluent, and the pathetic discourses of his lovers, and the transformation of them after their death into precious stones, into Birds, into Flowers, or into Monuments of Marble, you shall find hath allusion to Ovid's Metamorphosis, which in Ovid's own judgement was the best piece that ever he composed, and for which with most confidence, he doth seem to challenge to himself the deserved honour of a perpetual Fame.  
The strength of his fancy, and the shadowing of it in words he taketh from Mr. Marlowe in his Hero and Leander, whose mighty lines Mr. Benjamin Johnson (a man sensible enough of his own abilities) was often heard to say, that they were Examples fitter for admiration than for parallel, you shall find our Author everywhere in this imitation. This the one. 
Some say fair Cupid unto her inclined,  
Mourned as he went, and thinking on her pined.  And in another place, 
And as she went, casting her eyes aside,  
Many admiring at her beauty died.  This the other, 
And mighty Princes of her love denied,  
Pined as they went, & thinking on her died.  You shall find also how studious he is to follow him in those many quick and short sentences at the close of his fanc●…, with which he everywhere doth adorn his writings.  
The weaving of one story into another and the significant flourish that doth attend it is the peculiar Grace of Sir Philip Sidney, whom our Author doth so happily imitate, as if he were one of the same Inteligences that moved in that incomparable compass.  
His making the end of one Verse to be the frequent beginning of the other (besides the Art of the Trope) was the labour and delight of Mr. Edmund Specer, whom Sir Walt Raleigh and S. Ke●…e●● Digby were used to call the English Virgil, and indeed Virgil himself did often use it, and in my opinion with a greater grace, making the last word only of his Verso to be the beginning of the Verse following, as 
— Sequitur pulcherrimus Astur  
Astur equo sidens, & ve●…si●…oloribus armis.  Virgil hath nothing more usual than this graceful way of repetition, as those who are most conversant with him, can readily witness with me. Our Authors making use of one and the same Verse in several places is also taken from Virgil, as you shall often find in his georgics, which he would never have let pass (being full twelve years in the completing of that work) if he had conceived it would have been looked upon as an imperfection either of two much Haste or Sloth, and this also is often to be found in Homer.  
You behold now how many, and what great Examples our Author hath propounded to himself to imitate, if it be objected, that it is a disparagement to imitate any, be they never so excellent (according to that of Horace) O imitatorum stultum pecus; It is no absurdity to make answer, that Horace wrote that in a critical hour, when he abounded with a hypercrytical sense for if you please to look upon the Fragments of those Greek Poets, which in many books are inserted at the end of Pindar, you shall undoubtedly find that Horace hath translated as much of them as are now extant word for word, and put them into the first book of his Odes, which is very easy in this place to be represented, but that it is much beyond our room, and a little besides our subject.  
But more fully to satisfy the objection, it may be answered, that in this Horace had no relation at all to the words or fancy of the Imitator, but to these new numbers, and measures, which he first taught the Roman Muse to tread, and this makes him so much to magnify himself.  
Libera per vacuum posui vestigia princeps. The works of Virgil are nothing else but mere Imitations●… in his Eclogues he followeth Theocritus, in his Aeaeids, Homer, in his georgics he imitateth Hesiod, which he conceiveth to be so far from his prejudice, that he esteemeth it his glory. Ascraeumque 
Virg. Georg. lib. 3.  cano Romana per oppida carmen. And yet because the same subject was not treated on before by any Latin Poet, you may observe how confident he is of himself: 
— juvat ire viam quâ nulla priorum  
Castaliam molli deducitur orbita clivo. 
Lib. Georg 2.   These praelibations may serve not only to discharge our Author, but to raise him above those accusations which peradventure some distempered critics might have charged him with. The other part of his invention is entirely his own, smooth yet smart, and as clear as it is active! Now when all this shall be done at nineteen years of age, and out of a desire only to please you, what entertainment should you give unto it? with what flowers should you crown his memory, who brought so many flowers to crown your delight? Take them, and peruse them, his leaves invite every hand to turn them over; The young men may read them for their Information, and with some sympathy of affection; The old men for their Recreation, The Ladies may learn them by heart, and repeat them to one another, for this the Muses, upon their credit, have given me in charge to impart unto them, That whatsoever they shall lay forth on his praises (the Book readover) they will find it paid back to them in the reckoning.  R. C.  

On the Amorous and pathetic story of Arcadius and Sepha, &c.  
LO here the Muse which to our eye discovers  
The bleeding Fate of many hapless Lovers●…  
What though his warbling lyre not gravely rings  
With such deep notes as lofty CLIO sings,  
His Muse is soft, as sweet, and though not strong,  
Pathetic, lively, all on fire, and young,  
Flowing with tears and smiles, and full of sport,  
As fits the subject of fair Venus' Court,  
And this may Court you to peruse his Book;  
So oft i'th' streets with prompter eyes we look  
On lovely Girls who but their shoestrings tie,  
Than Wives, their Garters making fast more high.  L. B.  

On the exact and elabourate story of Arcadius and Sepha, and the rest of the Beavy of the Lovers:  
WHat brave young Man is this, whose lute doth lead  
The dancing Rocks, and teach the Woods to tread?  
Is Thracian Orpheus revived, whose lay  
Hath now charmed Hell, to get himself away?  
(Son of the Arts and heaven) our hearts we fill,  
With joy and zeal to gratulate thy skill;  
What fitting tributes shall we bring thee now,  
To crown thy merits, and adorn thy brow;  
For since thy harp to follow Trees are graced,  
Bays of themselves unto thy Brows makes haste  F. L.  

An Epitaph on the deceased Author, in allusion to his Sonnets on Aurora.  
SAd Lover, thou who to thy cruel Saint,  
Didst teach thy Muse to breathe thy last complaint,  
Whilst thou the Ends that Sex aimed at mad'st known,  
Me thought I heard thee thus to speak thy own;  
Lo here the Glory of all womens' pride,  
The matchless Trophy of their beauty's might,  
To kill by Treason, and hid fires provide  
Those to devour whom they do most invite;  
Poor injured ashes! you too late have tried,  
How ill they do the gentlest hearts requite;  
O that in Beauties should those flames be known,  
Which burn our breasts, yet never warm their own!  E. G.  

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

On these laboured Poems of the deceased author, Mr. WILLIAM BOSWORTH.  
THese bleeding, Lovers, and unstained desires,  
Their undried tears, & their religious fires,  
And their Stars sullen malice, which did bend  
Their lives and loves to an untimely end,  
May bring the pious Reader with perfumes  
Of flowers and sighs to worship at their tombs  
And their high flames admire; But o forbear  
That hasty zeal, and do not tread too near,  
For know the flames so ardent were that burned  
Their suffering hearts, and them to ashes turned,  
That by your sighs they may too soon be blown  
Into new life, and fet on fire your own.  L. C.  

The book to the READER.  
Reader,  

MY Author vowed to prattle forth his Loves,  
And fill the azure skies with watery clouds:  
My Author vowed to dwell in shady groves,  
And paint his Fortune in Diana's shrouds.  
For the best Artist that the world admires,  
Was but the Artist of his own Desires.   

You must not then expect a curious strain,  
That best befits the queintness of his story,  
No, that's a shadow for a riper brain,  
Let them report it, that have had the glory,  
The guilded tresses of the clearest shining,  
Have neither force in rising nor declining.   

Then take the branches of his tender vine,  
Which here you have presented, though he fears,  
You'll draw his meaning by too strict a line,  
For yet he ne'er attained to thrice seven years.  
Yet let me pass, and e'er his day sees night,  
His Hawk may please you with a fairer slight.     

Arcadius and Sepha.  

(1)  
NEar to the Caspian straits, where Dolphins sing,  
Hippobatos, a verdant Meadow lay,  
Along which Meadow ran a silver Spring,  
Winding her streams as careless of her way,  
Here would she stay, and seem returning home,  
Till with herself, herself was overcome.   

(2)  
Down by which brook there sat a little Ladd,  
A little Ladd named 
a A Poet of Crect.  Epimenides,  
Close to his foot a little Dog he had,  
Whose Masters face charactered his disease,  
Sighing he said, and to the Powers above,  
Make me (O God's) immortal for my love.   

(3)  
Snatch hence my soul, the better part I have,  
And him of his detested life deprive,  
Who vows to live obscurely in a Cave,  
Shall Sepha die, and I remain alive?  
Satyrs go weep, and when ye hear her name,  
Blow forth my love's inevitable fame.   

(4)  
Let swiftest thoughts possess my Sepha's name,  
And sound her praise as swift as Eagles fly,  
Let Marble be proud to preserve the same,  
Left rotten time out-slip her memory,  
Lest Trumpets cease to sound, and so forbear it.  
Let echoes learn to dictate when they hear it.   

(5)  
Ye sliding streams, that pass so gently by,  
Winding your waves, and do not faster flee,  
Joy you to hear my Sepha's Elegy?  
Or do you linger to condole with me?  
'Tis to condole, since such is my estate,  
Your bubbling streams do murmur at my fate.   

(6)  
Ye little Birds that used to sit and sing,  
While dryads with music's nimble touch,  
(When woods and valleys did of Sepha ring)  
Present harmonious tunes, to make her couch,  
A nest of heavenly raptures, sweeter far,  
With purer notes, than earthly noises are.   

(7)  
Why do you now my Sepha's tunes forbear?  
Why do you cease to tune my Sepha's lays?  
Why do'ned you now to wonted trees repair?  
Why do'ned you sit and sing my Sepha's praise?  
Ye warbling Chanters that such music bred,  
Are ye grown weary, or is Sepha dead?   

(8)  
Or Sepha dead? is, heavenly Sepha dead?  
No more shall earth be happy with her sweet,  
No more shall eyes be with her beauty fed,  
No more shall flowers be proud to kiss her feet,  
No more shall Phoebus court her in a shower,  
No more shall bees mistake her for a flower.   

(9)  
In blessed times when virtuous Sepha lived,  
The happy earth was with her beauty dressed,  
Each greedy eye, that saw not Sepha, grieved,  
Each flower was proud, to be by Sepha pressed,  
Love-showring P●…oebus spared no amorous time,  
And Bees on her did think to gather Thyme.   

(10)  
Blessed be the season, and the hour blessed,  
When first my eyes in Sepha's eyes were seen,  
When first my hopes began to build their nest,  
When first I saw her walking on yo●… Green,  
When first my lips s●…ipt Nectar from her breast,  
Blessed be the season, and the hour blessed.   

(11)  
Ye stately Pines that dwell on lofty hills,  
Stoop down your heads with a dejected fall,  
Let Boreas go sport with whom he wills,  
And though you knew her not, nor never shall,  
Sob forth her plaints with a bewailing eye,  
And say 'twas Sepha's death that made you die.   

(12)  
Smilax, and Crocus, little blushing flowers,  
Hence cease your red, and let your pale begin,  
And, say you want those sweet distilling showers,  
That P●…oebus used to Court fair Sepha in,  
Lilies forbear to stoop your drooping heads;  
For now your shame, the fairest lilly's dead.   

(13)  
That lilly's dead in whom all graces been,  
That lilly's dead, the fairest of the Nine;  
That lilly's dead, where nature's art was seen,  
That lilly's dead, whose odours were divine.  
That Lower, than whom more fairer there was none;  
Is plucked away, the fairest lilly's gone.   

(14)  
She was the fairest, and the sweetest creature,  
That ever yet was subject to the Gods,  
For they resolved she was the only feature,  
In whom they joyed, the Powers delight in odds,  
To deck their tents, Fair Sepha 'twas that moved  
My soul to bless, thee Sepha whom I loved.   

(15)  
Some Poets feign there is a heaven on Earth,  
Earth hath its joys to make a happy time,  
Admired odours giving a new birth,  
And sweetening joys, with M●…lli-●…lor●…'s thyme;  
'Tis not a feigned, but heaven rightly famed,  
For I enjoyed the heaven the Poets named.   

(16)  
Jove was propitious when ●… first begun  
To Court fair Sepha, echoes nimble charm:  
Rose-cheeked Adonis, fairer than the Sun,  
Had not a sweeter choice, nor kinder harm;  
Rough-footed satyrs, satyrs, Nymphs and Fauns,  
Scattered her praise througho●…t Diana's lawns.   

(17)  
If I but walked in T●…mpe, or the Groves,  
To meditate my melancholy lays,  
I was saluted with the murmuring loves  
Of shady Pines, repining at her praise,  
Grieved at her praise, when they her name did hear,  
They sigh for want of her sweet presence there.   

(18)  
Or if, (weary of sighs) I left the bowers,  
To recreate me in the whispering Air.  
I was saluted with distilling showers,  
That brought me tidings of my sweetest fair.  
Coming from heaven they told me news of this,  
Jove had prepared already for her bliss.   

(19)  
If to the Mountains I a voyage took,  
Mountains with Roses, and with Pinks adorned,  
There lay Adonis by his silver hook,  
Courted by Venus, Venus by him scorned,  
Venus with tears presents young Cupid's letter,  
He hates her vows, and loves fair Sepha better.   

(20)  
If to the Garden Flora me invited,  
Where all the dainty flowers are said to lie,  
Those dainty ●…lowers, that so much on●…e delighted,  
Are now abashed, and in their beauty die,  
Lilies and Roses startle at her name,  
One pale for fear, the other red for shame.   

(21)  
If to the Woods persuaded by my Muse,  
Even there were echoes of ●…air Sepha's glory,  
The warbling Chanters made a fine excu●…e,  
For her delay; and chanted forth the story  
Of her best praise; by which I understood,  
They strived with tunes to tell her to the wood.   

(22)  
If I but chanced to walk unto the springs,  
There sat the Muses warbling forth her story,  
Wanton Thalia with sweet raptures sings,  
Folding her name in heavens' immortal glory.  
With hymns, and lays, they prattle forth delight,  
And count her name the pen with which they write.   

(23)  
Yet sad Melpomene rejoiceth not,  
Nor aught but imprecations 'stows upon her,  
She saith her beauty is to her a blot,  
Whose so much goodness robs them of their honour,  
Help then Melpomene with thy sad ver●…e,  
To tell her fate, and howl upon her hearse.   

(24)  
These were the plaints the 〈◊〉 Lad bestowed  
The funerals of his fair Sepha's death,  
Behold said he, the service that I owed,  
And vowed to pay (Sepha) shall be my breath,  
When heard by Ladies of renowned glory.  
They urged him to relate his Sepha's story.   

(25)  
Ladies (said he) if your unhappy ears,  
Admit such sad disasters to have room,  
I by your looks your inward thoughts appears,  
You'll Elegize this story that shall come.  
You'll sigh to hear my Se●…ha's hap, while I,  
Bend all my power to tell her fate, and die.    

THE history OF ARCADIUS and SEPHA.  

Liber Primus.  

Amid Campania Fields, near Sabine Bowers,  
Plain to each view there stood two stately Towers,  
Mounting aloft the skies their cloudy heads,  
As proud as high, disdaining their first Beds;  
So curious was their building, and their stone,  
That both alike, they both were took for one,  
Showing byth' type of their conjoining arts,  
The true conjunction of each others hearts.  
Two stately Towers for their buildings famed,  
One Arathea, th'other Talmos named;  
In Talmos, Sepha dwelled, whose heavenly face,  
Gave to each quill a line, each line a grace,  
In whispering forth her praise, whose radiant eyes,  
Like starry lamps that emulate the skies,  
In height and beauty with their gl●…ttering light,  
Shone like the clearest stars i'th' darkest night.  
Upon her head she wore a laurel Crown  
Knit up with sundry flowers, on which Renown,  
As chiefest Empress of her fate and beauty,  
Did sympathize with a religious duty:  
Hesperides, in whose calm heart did rest  
No sullen strains, but lyric, and a nest  
Of heavenly raptures, perfumed odours sweet,  
Which Nectar and Nepenthe breathings, meet  
For heavens' great Queen, such was her virtue given,  
That where she was, there was a second heaven.  
Her face so sweet as Nature can devise,  
Was dressed with sparkling Diamonds of her eyes,  
The sweet composure of whose beauty yields  
A medal of the true Elysian fields;  
Her forehead, fittest place to go before,  
(Since who so speaks of beauty treads it o'er)  
Was justly called a path, whereon did pass,  
A way that leads you where all beauty was.  
Close by that path, two radiant lamps did rise,  
Which some abruptly did entitle eyes;  
Too mean a name for two such heavenly lights,  
As far beyond all eyes, as days from nights:  
To whom was added that celestial grace  
Of perfect pureness to adorn the face,  
That whensoe'er these seeing lamps did move,  
They'd light spectators on their way to love.  
Between which eyes (if eyes they may be named)  
A pillar, (as of purest marble framed)  
Then called her nose, did lead you to two plains,  
Pure white and red, like milk which claret stains.  
Two flowery fields where Flora seemed to dwell,  
Where white and red were striving to excel,  
Whose raptures seemed like a celestial nest,  
Whereon distressed lovers seemed to rest,  
Which Paradise if any lover seeks,  
It was presented in fair Sepha's cheeks.  
Two pearls of that inestimable price,  
So far beyond th' perfection of her eyes,  
Impaled with that excessive form of bliss,  
Smiling, you'd think th' invited you to kiss.  
What name or title fits fair Sepha's lips?  
Shall some Ambrosian cup, where great Jove sips  
Nectar from Ganamed? too mean it is,  
To bear their form, it is too mean by this,  
Jove out of them Nepenthe used to sip,  
But that Nepenthe grew on Sepha's lip.  
Then 'gan her teeth in a most perfect line,  
Placed each by other through her lips to shine,  
More white, more true, than Nature could prefer  
To any other was it not to her.  
Those that ne'er saw, might judge what they had been,  
Like picture pearl, through crimson shadows seen;  
So was her chin like crystal over red,  
So was her hair in decent manner spread;  
Which she all careless down her back did wear,  
As a fit object for the wanton Air,  
Careless to sport with, next to them was praised  
Her neck, as of a Marble pillar raised,  
Proud to support the weight of such a f●…ce,  
In whom three Graces seemed to be one grace.  
Then might you see her Amber breasts, more white  
Than Scythian snow, and yielding more delight  
Than silly quill is able to report,  
They were the hills where Cupid used to sport.  
Between which hills there lay a pleasant Alley,  
Whose milky paths did lead into the Valley.  
This was that Sepha who unhappy died,  
This was that Sepha for whose hap I cried;  
This was that Sepha, whom the Valleys miss,  
And this was her whose tragic stories this.  
Sepha, the glory of the scorned earth,  
In Talmos dwelled, sometimes a place of mirth,  
The ground whereon it stood was decked with flowers,  
Here lay a Meadow, there were Sabine bowers.  
The house was with a Grove of trees enclosed,  
Proud of the beauty that therein reposed:  
Only a glead there lay, the trees between,  
Where Arathea was of Talmos seen.  
In Arathea young Arcadius dwelled,  
A man where Nature had so freely dealt  
Her chiefest art, and artificial skill,  
Pleasing each eye, but most to Sephas will.  
Oft by her window did Arcadius ride,  
Sometimes to hunt, and sometimes to divide  
The Air with riding swift Italian horses,  
Here making stops, there running at full courses,  
When she (unknown to him) with watchful eye,  
Oft saw his going, and his coming by,  
So that of fire which Lovers sometimes find,  
A spark began to kindle in her mind.  
Once did she blame unkindly Cupid much;  
Darling said she, and is thy power such?  
Unkindly thus pure streams to overcome,  
And force a heart to love she knows not whom?  
Is he too good that thus thou dost deny  
Me to receive one courting from his eye?  
Cupid, scornest thou my prayers? or dost thou shame?  
Is he so mean to let me know his name?  
Yet let me live, let me his feature se●…,  
If he's but virtuous, 'tis enough for me.  
This said, her eyes drawn by a heavy sound,  
Saw young Arcadius, grovelling on the ground,  
Whose too too nimble horse, in striving most  
To please his master, his blessed burden lost.  
Once did she speak, once did she move her tongue,  
What sad mishap said she, did thee that wrong?  
How didst thou of thy wonted favours miss?  
Was the ground greedy thy fair limbs to kiss?  
At whose celestial voice, like a sweet charm,  
He started up, and said, I had no harm;  
Thanks for your love, and with a decent grace,  
Stoops down his hat, by which she saw his face.  
Sepha (said she) be glad, for thou hast found,  
And seen the Arrow that thy heart did wound.  
Well, young Arcadius gets him to his steed,  
Who guilty of the last unhappy deed,  
With nimble strokes his master to delight,  
Slips o'er the plain from fairest Sepha's sight.  
Go then, said she, the height of beauty's pride,  
And world's chief mirror; if thy heart is tied  
To any Lady whom thou call'st thy own,  
As sure it is, or else thou wouldst have shown  
Some more respects to me, but if thou art,  
If to another thou hast linked thy heart,  
Twice happy thou, thrice she, that shall embrace  
Thy slender body, and enjoy thy face.  
This said, she to a silent chamber goes,  
Weary of love, but more of mind, and throws,  
Sometimes her restless body on a bed,  
Where love is with imaginations ●…ed,  
Then to the window would she take her way,  
And view the place where young Arcadius lay,  
Thence would she to her closet, where alone,  
Alone she sat her sorrows to bemoan;  
If such was Isis' love to Lignus son,  
Then ignorant why he her love had won,  
And Iphis had in his Ianthe got,  
Not yet a man, yet more than one man's lot?  
If such was Philoclea's a●…dent love,  
From her own sex, such free desires to move?  
When Zelmenes eyes such direful vapours threw,  
And to her own, prodigious accents drew?  
If Isis was of Iphis change most glad?  
And Philoclea her own wishes had?  
Why may not Sepha be possessed of hers,  
Not half so far impossible as theirs?  
But heaven conspired with an impatient eye,  
And all the powers to act her Tragedy.  
Not that Injustice with the Gods did dwell,  
For how could they 'gainst that sweet face rebel,  
Nor enmity against such beauty bred,  
Whose double portion with amazement led  
Each greedy eye into a field of Roses  
And lilies which a ●…hea●…re encloses.  
But Love whose passions with impartial flames,  
Now whispered 'mongst the Gods, aloud proclaims,  
By ●…ove●… consent to dispossess us here  
Of our fair heaven, for they did want her there:  
Conspicuous fate, her heart already feels  
Cupid's dire bolt, and at first Arrow yields;  
No warrior she, nor strived with struggling hand  
The dart to break, nor would she it withstand,  
But gently stepping towards his Bow did high,  
And phoenixlike into the flames did fly;  
So Pilomel doth willingly depose,  
Her tender breast against the thorn, so those  
Who (Bleeding easily) meet death void of pain,  
Pha●…iphae so in Ida woods did reign,  
Twice did the honour of Latona move  
A scorned defiance to Arcadius' Love,  
But twice by Ericyna 'twas defaced,  
And twice more Love into her heart was placed,  
Wherefore unwilling to omit the art,  
The Salve she thought would molli●…ie her smart,  
Half doubting Cupid who such change had wrought,  
Gave speech the leave, to ease her of her thought.   

Love, who the greatest Potentates can tame,  
(Ruin of zeal) at whose majestic name,  
(Blind wicked boy) disguized with all untruth,  
The Gods have yielded honour to his youth,  
Sprung first from Venus' Goddess of his art,  
If blind as some suppose how can he dart  
Showers of such wrongs on silly woman's heart?   

Thou Goddess of the valleys and the Plains,  
See how the wag thy sacred rites disdains,  
Thou thou Latona's Daughter, whose delights  
I vow to perfect, and maintain thy rites,  
In spite of Cupid, see how he deposes  
Thy Holy laws, see how he plucks thy Roses,  
And crops the fairest lilies of thy Closes.   

Into my heart some heavy thought is strayed,  
But there it shall not, nor long hath it stayed,  
Some muddy cloud hath overwhelmed my face,  
And left behind it shadows of disgrace:  
Thus when the heaven's thy mighty Father lowrs,  
His anger is some bitter tasted showers,  
To perish quite the odours of thy flowers.   

Thus hath he given power to the Boy,  
Who strives thy Virgin odours to destroy.  
Urged by the daughter of Oceanu●…  
His Frothy Mother, enemy to us.  
And she doth practice his deceitful smiles,  
The fittest motions with which he beguiles,  
And with a touch thy vestal lamps defiles.   

Up (thou Alphea) show thy power and skill,  
Reserve thy virgins wholly to thee still,  
Lend us the swiftest ●…rethusa's feet,  
To fly Alpheus, make our prayers fleet:  
And that we may do honour to thy name,  
Do thou in Ephesus thy will proclaim,  
That we with nettles may defy his flame.   

Thus did she feed her thoughts on weak despair,  
Sighing her sorrows to the empty air,  
Repining only that her heavy fate  
Pressed down so hard to make her derogate.   

Might I (said she) Idali●…'s garments wear,  
I would be glad, would she but hear my prayer,  
Or Diana thou to whom I am devoted,  
Admit not my true zeal to be remoted  
From service thine, if still thy power thou hast;  
If Cytherea hath it not defaced,  
Say whether yet he any hath embraced.   

Say whether yet he any hath embraced,  
If yet to thee his service be allied,  
Let not his cheeks of any sorrows taste,  
'Tis pity such pure streams with worse be dy'd;  
But howsoe'er if happy him be tied,  
And Hymen link him to some other Bride,  
Let not his name, nor kindred be denied.  
And thus she discontinuing Diana's fires,  
Vexed with excess of heat and love, retires  
Into the garden, where she takes free scope  
To vent her plaints, but all deny her hope.  
Each flower she sees gives a fresh appetite  
To that sweet flower she wants; there's no delight,  
But dreams and visions haunt her in her sleep;  
The birds that used to sing, now seemed to weep,  
And all with heavy voice did seem to move  
Complaints, and wail for her unhappy love.  
Nor could she say 'twas love did her oppress,  
Since she was ignorant of what fair guess  
She was enamoured, she saw his face,  
And knew he was a man, but of what race  
And name she knew not, nor knew where he dwelled;  
(Oft so for unknown cause, strange pains are felt)  
Oft from the garden would she send her eyes,  
Loves faint ambassadors, into the skies,  
For help, and oft with shrill complaining sounds,  
Would weep forth prayers, with which the air abounds.  
Thence would she unto Venus' Altar hast,  
Where when the myrrh and odours she had placed,  
And mixing plaints with the perfuming flame,  
Grant me great Queen of Love to know his name.  
Thence would she unto Diana's Altar high.  
And do the like, and thence to Cupid fly,  
But still returned enraged, amazed, unblessed,  
Till fairest Hecate heard her request.  
Not far from Talmos there a City was,  
C●…speria named D●…lia's denoted place,  
Where she a temple had sacred to her,  
Where of●… unmarried people did prefer  
Their prayers, remoted only for the same,  
No ●…ymi neall servants thither came  
Now was the time, when clothed in Scythian whites  
Her Priests were ready to perform her rites;  
Her Cups were with ●…asta●…ion liquours filled,  
Her Altar with pale Sacrifices hilled,  
That all her virgins came to wait upon her  
Bearing their ●…estall lamps Diana●…s honour.  
When Sepha towards her temple did repair,  
Clothed all in yellow, whose dishevelled hair,  
Stirred with the wind, gave a reflective shine,  
As Jove had towed her in a golden shrine.  
Down to Gargaphia, did she take her way,  
Fear lending wings, since Love had caused her stay  
Too long, and as she tripped o'er those fair Lawns,  
Roughfooted satyrs, satyrs, Nymphs and Fawns,  
With various coloured flowers which they had set,  
Made for her feet a pleasant Carquenett.  
Her eyes when first they glanced towards the place,  
Whither she would, O more than human race,  
Said she, be thou propitious to me still;  
Impute not this delay, want of good will  
Towards thy holy Laws, and as she prayed,  
The more she run, the more she thought she stayed;  
Chiefly for this, when first her tender feet,  
With gentle motions brought her to those sweet,  
Those diapered, those rape enamoured dales,  
First mother to those cool perfumed gales,  
Which Zephyrus from flowery Meadows sends,  
To court Aurora, whose beauty extends  
(Like blushing sighs with which women beguile)  
Back to the same to grace them with a smile.  
She heard shrill voices, shrill complaining cries,  
The hasty messengers of some dull eyes,  
Call her to witness with lamenting verse,  
Like those that use to howl over the hearse  
Of their dead friends, to which as women use,  
●…he gives a skreek, women can seldom choose;  
Which skreek, whether it were for strangeness rather;  
That all the sylvan dwellers 'bout her gather,  
Or whether 'twas the rareness of her voice,  
As sure it was, for that O heavenly noise,  
Hath power to lead the wildest rudest ear,  
Which once those heavenly raptures doth but hear,  
From uncivility, to deep amaze;  
But be it what it will, they all did gaze  
And flock about her, silent, pale, and wan,  
Till one (it seems the chiefest of them all) began,  
Hence ugly grief, to which they all agree,  
Though our King's gone, we'll make our Queen of thee,  
Then 'gan they leap and dance, with such delight,  
Which put fair Sepha into such a fright,  
That from her eyes she let fall such a frown,  
That seen of them, they all fell trembling down.  
Yet such was Sepha's virtue and good nature,  
That she would not permit the smallest creature,  
Through her to perish, if from her there came  
Aught did extingish the desired flame  
Of life, the same to her own heart returned;  
●…or with the like desire of Love she burned:  
●…he would have gone and left them, but compassion  
Of their then grief, caused a deliberation,  
Half gone she turned again, and with her hand  
Helping them up, saith let me understand,  
The cause you weep, if it require my art,  
With you to grieve, with you I'●… bear a part.  
When one awakened with excess of bliss,  
●…ose up, and 'gan to kiss her ●…ars with this.  
Nisean Silenus 
a Silenus herein is used for Bacchus.  born of Indian race, 
The Tale of Bacchus & Diana.   
Once kept yond hill, you Gaurus was his place,  
His palace was with palest marble raised,  
Embraced with blushing grapes, and often praised  
By those, which never yet the reason knew,  
For those sweet smelling flowers about it grew.  
The way that leads you to this more than blessed  
Elysium, was bordered with a nest  
Of Hyacinths, which now begin to spread  
Their Amiclean flowers into a bed;  
Like that of lilies, which our Poets say,  
Leads now to him, instiled the milky way;  
There was no path went creeping through the same,  
Which might delude the most opprobrious name,  
With, fallacies, for so they might suppose,  
The way that leads to honour doth enclose  
A world of bliss, when each eye hath his charm,  
The way to honour hath a world of harm.  
I speak not this to disallow the rites  
Honoria claims, the selfsame way invites  
As well to honour, as well not to honour,  
For she hath equal balance cast upon her;  
But to uphold the blessed Silenian way,  
Whose smooth egressions will admit no stay,  
To those who towards Brisean Altars hie,  
Till they enjoy th' Nisean Canopy:  
A vale there is, which from a low descent  
Of a late Hill, did somewhat represent  
Phlegraean plains, nursed by Meander's waves,  
Which cut their beds, and furrow their own graves.  
This was Nemea called, a fertile plain,  
Bedewed with blood of Mifian cattle, slain  
For sacrifice, brought by th' Ismenides,  
The wrath of just Silenus to appease.  
Whose angry frowns fright you from that blessed vale;  
But till you to a far more pleasant dale,  
Which mounted by two steps doth yield a sight  
More smooth than glass, more glorious than del●…ght.  
A heap of Pines there are, which equal range  
On either side, a pleasant sight but strange,  
To those ne'er saw't, through which there lye●…a gleed,  
Smooth bladed grass, which shows you the ab●…de  
Of Bacchus' guide, then come you to a Court,  
Where all the crew of satyrs do resort;  
And with shrill cries do make his palace-ring,  
And Io, Io, Bacchanalia sing.  
No wall there is that doth enclose the same,  
'tis hemed with laurel trees of the bigst frame,  
And under them there is a bushy hedge  
Of Rosemary, which cut even make a ledge,  
For various coloured flowers his Clients bring,  
They are the courteous offerings of the spring.  
In midst of which fair Court there is a Fo●…t,  
Of crystal streams, where oft a Goddess wont,  
With diverse Damsels, Goddesses I think,  
Because their beauty hath such power to link  
Men to their love, for sure such heavenly faces  
Ne'er sprung from mortal; ne'er from human races●…  
But be they as they are, in that same Well  
They used to bathe, the Statues there can tell,  
Chlamidias' shrines th' are called, and strong de●…ence  
That were erected at her going thence.  
Which story if you'll please but to admit  
And bless the ground so much, as here to sit  
(Fair Lady) 'tis not tedious, we'll relate  
The tragic ends, and tell the heavy fate  
There lies entombed, we will in every thing  
Present to you the figure of the spring.  
Time slips too fast (said Sepha) and my way  
Is long, I cannot well admit the stay  
To hear it told, but since you say 'tis short,  
I'll linger time to hear out your report.  
Then thus: Our God hearing what heavenly shapes  
Haunted those groves, and with what store of grapes  
It did ●…abound; said rise and let's go see,  
Perhaps it is a dwelling fit for me.  
Whither being come, and having took a view  
Of each delight, what pleasure might accrue  
By dwelling there, said lets begin to build;  
The ground is fragrant, 'tis a pleasant field  
With odours dressed, Marble shall be our stone,  
Cedar our Timber, the Foundation  
On yonder hill, yond hill that will be proud,  
To be instiled the powerful Bacchus shroud.  
At this the Goddess laughed, and in a scorn,  
More shamed and ruddy than the blushing Morn  
Escaped from Titan's arms, doth nimbly rise,  
While pale revenge sits trembling in her eyes,  
Ready to ruin those that dare presume  
To view, much less to touch her hallowed room;  
She girts her armour on, and to her side  
Her quiver, full of bloody arrows tied,  
In her left hand her bow, and with the other  
Tearing the grapes from their beloved Mother;  
Tramples them on the ground, and in a rage,  
(For so it seems no treaties could assuage  
Her furious wrath) Bacchus said she, thou Clown  
So shall I trample thy imperial Crown.  
How durst thou (Villain) dare to touch this Isle?  
And with thy nasty carcase to defile  
My holy place? (Egregious drunkard) how  
Durst thou presume t'offend my Virgin brow?  
What recompense art able to bestow?  
Or how wilt thou my powerful wrath o'er-goe?  
How wilt thou my destroying anger miss?  
Or what requital shall I have for this?  
Thy death I will not work lest it be known,  
I so much goodness to thee should have shown  
In slaying thee, 'twould be as bad disgrace,  
Should it be known that thou hast seen my face.  
Thou happy of this favour Mayst rejoice,  
My damsels scorn that thou shouldst hear my voice,  
What a vile stain, what laughing there would be,  
Should the world know I deign to speak to thee.  
How shall I combat then? or thee expel  
From the society of this blessed Well?  
See how these Roses at thy boldness blush,  
Those flowers die which thy proud feet do crush.  
See how the trembling lilies stoop a low,  
Grow pale and droop, for fear thou wilt not go.  
The Birds no more will sing while thou art here,  
These silver streams do murmur plaints for fear  
Thou wilt their drops defile, the very skies  
Since thou cam'st hither have withdrawn their eyes.  
And since thou hast this flowery place defaced,  
No more we shall of their sweet favour taste  
To cherish us, here is a spacious way,  
Be packing then or at thy peril stay.  
Vile words against a God, who smiling said;  
Here will I live, ●…and thou shalt be my maid:  
Thy maid said she, to do thee service then,  
With this weak arm, and these shall be thy men,  
Sending him showers of arrows, which invade  
His nurse's hearts, and there a Tavern made.  
Bacchus at this grew wroth, his ruddy face  
Where the best beauty used to have a place,  
Grew pale, and pale: Bellona now said he,  
Be thou propitious to my sovereignty.  
What spiteful God hath sent these mortal shapes?  
Wicked devourers of my sacred grapes;  
Nor enmity alone against the fruit,  
Will them suffice, who seek to spoil the root.  
Fair Girl he said; think'st thou I dread thy power,  
Dare mickle Fortune on my pleasure lower?  
My Father guides the motion of the year,  
His dwelling is beyond the middle Sphere.  
Heaven is his palace, where his power's known;  
Power waits on him, Elysium is his own;  
My mother's of no base nor mean descent  
With whom all Graces had their compliment.  
And though she's mortal, yet her pedigree,  
Portrays in brazen lines her memory;  
From worthy Cadmus, whose descent doth spring  
From old Agenor the Phoenician King.  
How dar'st thou then revile my holy fire?  
I am a God, and can withstand thine ire?  
Can these thy threatenings then make me the worse?  
Or dost thou think thy arrows can have force  
To pierce my powerful skin●… Fond foe forbear,  
theyare fittest for Cupid's use, by Styx I swear  
A secret influence hath my honour saved,  
I have in L●…the lake my body laved.  
This said, his leafy javelin up he takes,  
At sight of which the fearful goddess quakes,  
He turns him back to his devoted train  
In whose each hand a Thirsis did remain,  
Whose fiery valour never was withstood,  
Good was their courage, and their valour good.  
Forbear said he, let not your anger light  
On these, so far unworthy for your fight,  
What stain shall we endure? when it be said,  
So many Hecatompil●…ns have made  
War with a silly maid? what though she strive  
Through haughty pride our honour to survive?  
Urge not her fight who cannot manage it.  
Fie, are these subjects for your valour fit?  
Forbear I say, and let your wrath be kept,  
For those who have our ancient honours swept  
Into a dirty lake; let it suffice  
This moutain shall our Orgies memorize.  
With that another shower of darts she sends  
From nimble arms, whose multitude extends  
All o'er the Army which our God had there,  
Enough to move a valiant God with fear;  
So thick they came, that like the evening cloud,  
Or like an arbour, or a leafy shroud  
Remaining long, they might have caused a dearth,  
They kept the courteous Sun from the dark earth.  
Go too said Bacchus, let all pity fade,  
And fight on now, we now shall fight i'th' shade;  
Then 'gan a desperate war, but being divine,  
No harm was done, the greatest harm was mine,  
Till fair Antigone, alas too rare,  
Too young alas, alas too heavenly fair  
To leave this haven, exchanged her mortal hue  
And leapt to heaven, I saw her as she slew.  
A wound she had, nor was there any place  
But that alone, but that which could deface  
Her ruddy cheeks, her lips that oft did shove  
Life to the hearts of those that saw them move,  
And thus it chanced, 
The sto●● Haemon Antigone.  Haemon the fairest boy  
Of Thebes City, would go sport and toy  
With Cupid's darts, and Cupid being blind,  
(And Love you know when vexed is oft unkind)  
Pulled them away, Haemon would him withstand,  
And as he held, he chanced to raze his hand.  
This being slighted 'gan to fester in,  
And having got a newly welcomed skin,  
Began to fester more; it being small,  
And of small pain was pitied not at all,  
By him I mean, who as it seems delighted  
In this new pain; and that's the cause 'twas slighted●…  
Now was it grown unto a doubled height  
His breast within, and with a nimble slight  
Began his heart to bore, when he o'recharged,  
Could not suppress that fire which now enlarged  
Itself with larger flames; it kissed his heart,  
And he kissed it, like one loath to impart  
Some serious thought, from his o'reburthened breast,  
And yet detaining it can find no rest.  
Have you not seen the H●…liconian spring,  
Send her beloved streams a-wandering  
The vale below, who ready to fulfil  
(Though murmuring for grief) their mother's will,  
Glide on apace, yet oft with watery eyes,  
Look towards the place where their blessed mother lies;  
While she with crooked bubblings doth complain,  
Now calls them in, than thrusts them forth again.  
So was't with Haemon loath to lose the bliss,  
The pleasing joys he hoped to reap from this  
His new intended life, also unwilling  
To dispossess himself of those distilling  
And grateful honours, from Diana came,  
Due only to the lovers of her name.  
In both perplexed alike he sits amazed;  
(symptoms of Love) and o'er the vaileys gazed,  
Starts up, sits down, admires with foolish joy  
The fruits thereof, detests as much th'annoy  
The same engenders, having 'fore his eyes,  
The sad examples of the miseries  
It hath produced; Leander's heavy fate,  
Makes him eschew it now as much with hate,  
As e'er before he to it zealous was,  
Whose tragedies are unto him a glass.  
In this extreme, what will not Venus do?  
He studies how, and can already woe.  
Admit said he, the winged boy would send  
Into this place the picture of that friend,  
I best could honour, should I be approved  
Or no? for yet he knew not whom he loved;  
Or should I chance of that fair chance to chance:  
Could I in lover's phrase my love advance?  
Say Cupid, or if yet thou think'st I cannot,  
Make trial, and if too much she disdain not,  
Thy book I'll quickly learn, before the morn  
Descry our blots, there's none a workman born;  
And at our next encounter I'll so gain  
Thy approbation, there shall not a stain,  
Deface my quill to make my study falter,  
Whole showers of Myrrh I'll pour upon thy Altar.  
Thy Altar shall with saffron streams appear,  
And I with yellow garments will be there;  
There will I be to see thy service done,  
The Oaths betrothed by thy beloved son,  
On high Hymerus hill, and ere the same  
Had flown from Haemons sacred breath, there came  
A Lady by, nor only one there was,  
Yet had there been no more, she did su●…pass  
All beauties could have come, Antigone  
Whose face from sable night did snatch the day,  
And made it day, what need I show the same?  
I know'ts enough, if you but know her name.  
Antigone came thither, thither came  
Blind Cupid's Love, and there the good●…y frame  
Of nature's pride, whose beauty can procure  
Each wink to make, each love spectators sure.  
Three sisters they, but one of all the rest  
More fair and lovely was, and far more blessed  
With nature's gifts, and that was only she  
Whom men alone did call Antigone.  
Her cheeks bedecked with lines of crystal veins,  
Were like that ruddy blush Au●…o●…a gains  
From Tellus' breath; whose odours do encroach  
O'er flowery fields to welcome her approach.  
She came with such a Majesty and Grace,  
As if the Gods in her all-conquering face,  
Had kept their parliament, the Milky way,  
Running Meander-like with crooked stray  
From her white chin, lead to that hill which yields  
A prospect o'er the fair Elysian fields.  
Her upper garments were of milky hue,  
And under them a coat of azure blue;  
Some stars of Gold there were, and those but small,  
Were like the shower Phoebus let on her fall.  
The blew seen through the white, with that fair shower  
Seemed like a cloud that did enshrine a power.  
Her hair not loose as some do use to wear,  
Ribbons of Gold were proud to tie her hair,  
And so delighting held it up so hard,  
Lovers from favours of it were debarred.  
Each step she took, was like a virtuous way,  
Or path where her distressed Lovers lay:  
For as she went casting her eyes aside,  
Many admiring at her beauty did,  
Of all the gestures that her body had,  
With one especial gesture she was clad;  
And that was this, oft as thou used to walk  
Into the groves to hear the small birds talk,  
Antigone thy praise, thou oft was used,  
(I think by some diviner power infused)  
To ravish men, often was thou endued  
With that sweet grace which each spectator ru'd,  
A careless winding of thy body 'twas  
Reeling, and nodding as thou by didst pass,  
Like frisking kids upon the Mountains seen,  
Or wanton Lambs that play upon the Green.  
Then wouldst thou leap from bank to bank, and rise  
Th' Jocastaean body into the skies.  
While Zephyrus better to help the flee,  
Would fly beneath, but 'twas thy heaven to see.  
Then wouldst thou swing abroad thy tender hands●…,  
At whose pure shine, each eye amazed stands,  
And with thy finger beck, which gave excuse  
To lovers, saying thou called'st, but 'twas thy use,  
This Haemon saw, even as the smiling ground,  
With various-coloured flowers her temples crowned;  
She crops a rose, and why so did she seek,  
There was a purer rosy in her cheek;  
But (Lord to see) putting it to her nose,  
What purer beauty could there be then those?  
Like coral held in her most most pure hands,  
Or blood and sickly milk that mingled stands.  
The pale-faced lily from the stalk she tears,  
Even as the lily, so Narcissus fares,  
Sweet Crocus from his weeping root she twinds  
And him with his beloved Smilax binds.  
Nor Hyacinthus must this favours ●…lie,  
Who with the Cyprian Anenomy.  
After she had retired into a shade,  
Of these disc●…lour'd flowers a posy made●…  
Then lying down●… (for sleep began to play  
The wanton with her eyelids as she lay)  
She slept; not seeing Haemon who still kept  
Out of her sight, or else she had not slept.  
Then 'gan the sylvan warblers to renew  
Their pleasant notes, with all the merry crew  
Kind Spring affords, each striving best to keep,  
Their untaught quaver, lull●…ng her asleep.  
Her posy to her left hand she conveyed,  
And on that hand her weary head she laid;  
Her right hand had the office to employ  
A safeguard to her breast, where Haemons' eye  
Stood ready fixed, softly he would have stole  
The posy thence, but each wink did control  
His bold attempt, at last with ravished joy,  
That Fortune oped to him so fair a way  
To so divine a mark, he gently laid  
His trembling lips to hers, and softly said,  
Ye powers be thanked, and if such power ye have,  
As there's no power but what is yours, o save  
Your servant, o permit not her disdain,  
T'acquaint my heart with just cause to complain●…  
Still let her sleep, rob me not of this bliss,  
Still let her sleep, ere I this favour miss,  
chameleon-like I'll live upon her breath,  
It Nectar is, and will preserve from death.  
With that she waked, and seeing there so nigh,  
An unknown guest, she rose and 'gan to fly  
Abashed she would have spoke, but too much fear  
Caused it so softly that one could not hear  
Whether she chid or no, Great Queen said she,  
Who art rewarder of Integrity,  
Let me not be defiled; this Haemon heard,  
And would have answered, but he was debarred.  
By her ensuing voice which might inflame  
Cold Neptune's bosom, if but heard the same.  
She views him well surveys with curious eye  
His face, 
* Alterna faci●…s sibi dat resp●…nsa rubore, & tener affectum prodit ●…trique pudor.  who with like language doth reply,  
A face she saw, the face she sure had known  
But that she did compared with was her own,  
Of beauty pure, too pure she thought it was,  
To be the picture of a human face,  
Those speaking looks, that Grace and Majesty,  
Far better would befit a Deity.  
To whom she said, but what I must omit,  
Since I am ignorant, nor is it fit,  
To let my thoughts into those secrets pry, which they deny,  
For had she not been curious of her will,  
She ne'er had whispered, ne'er had been so still.  
But Haemon thus,  
Lady your looks a tragic tale unfold,  
I fear the end before I hear it told,  
Why should you tremble so? or be afraid  
Of him in whom your power is displayed?  
Remit this boldness that I did intrude  
Into your sacred Grove, o fair exclude  
Not my complaints from your still honoured praise,  
Lest sable night give period to my days.  
Peace said Antigone, shall every grove,  
Where babbling Echoes dwell witness your love?  
So much I heard, and saw her pretty look  
Show him her face in which there lay a book  
By Cupid's finger wrote, while he o'er joyed,  
Kissed as she spoke, and with her ribbons toyed:  
He took her by the hand and softly crushed  
Sweet balm from thence, at sight of which she blu●…  
He would have saved the same, but of it missed,  
She would have spoke, but as she spoke he kissed.  
Then met his hands about her tender wast,  
So Jupiter when Danae he embraced,  
And such like toys they used as lovers use  
While a pure kiss (as if they would infuse  
Into each others breast their souls) was given,  
For Haemon vowed by all the Powers of Heaven,  
No impious thought that honour should molest,  
Which was engraven in his loyal breast.  
And that he was from all deceit as free,  
As he desired to find Antigone.  
Go then said she, 'tis but one lingering night,  
Our body's part, but ah, they parted quite.  
For she towards Diana took her way;  
Where then in Camp Diana's virgins lay,  
Ready to give our God their strong assault,  
Where she was slain, Oh, 'twas her Haemons fault,  
For he belike that Cupid had implored  
Which some call God, that favour to afford,  
Through his beloved's breast with his keen dart,  
To make an easy passage to her heart.  
Which Cupid to fulfil did open lay  
A hole through which a javelin took his way.  
At this she starts, revenge my death she cried,  
Haemon my love, Haemon farewell and died.  
At this disaster Diana did repine,  
Hold, hold said she (Bacchus) the battle's thine.  
The hill I'll leave, yet ere I take my way,  
Permit that I by yonder spring do lay  
My Virgin dead, which yielded, there she laid  
Her corpse, and over them a Statue made;  
It stood upright, and looking towards the East,  
The blood ran trickling down her wounded breast,  
And on each side her sister's statue stood,  
With weeping clothes wiping away the blood.  
This being done Diana left the place,  
Fears making furrows in her virgin face,  
Her Sisters left to let her body lie,  
But since their Statues did accompany  
Her tomb, they took their way, having done this,  
To yond Casperia where her Temple is.  
Now Titan weary of that sable bed  
Night did him lend, towards Aurora●…led,  
When Haemon weary of slow-footed hours,  
Oft wished the morning, which come, each cloud lowrs●…  
The winds spoke loud, and little birds were mute,  
For Sol had clothed him in a mourning suit,  
The morning wept, but what it might foreshow  
Haemo suspected not, sweet Winds did blow  
No more, the Powers themselves with heavy eyes  
Gave a consent to weep her Tragedies.  
Straight to the place appointed there to meet,  
He hied, time lending wings unto his feet,  
He calls his love, Antigone he cries,  
Why art so slow to meet him who relies  
Upon thy faith, more than upon his own?  
Then speaks unto the Trees, have you not known  
Which way she went? or hath she not been here?  
Is she too slow? she is too slow I fear,  
Himself replies, and like a Tiger flees,  
With raving eyes, inquires of all he sees.  
The fairest rosy that the garden bred,  
Saith he, hath now forgot the Mother bed  
Of its first birth●… I fear it hath been pulled  
By some unlucky hand, whose drops have lulled  
It in a bath of Mildew, or hath been,  
Cause of mishap, cause of some deadly sin,  
Else why should Phoebus' shame to show his face?  
And creep behind a cloud, lest some disgrace  
Should taint him of conspiracy; or why  
Should Coelum's vesture yield a Sympathy  
Of grief? or why should shrill complaining cries  
Of echoes strive to pierce the Azure Skies?  
Wherefore do little Birds forbear to sing  
To Amphiluche, and her praises ring  
Along the valleys? Why do lilies fade?  
Or why do Roses yield a ruddy shade  
For their late sickly leaves? there's some mishap,  
Hath sure enforced the fatal nymphs to crap  
Their still still brittle threads, the virgin sign  
No more I see's beloved, but doth repine,  
The custody thereof for thrice five years,  
And that's the infant's time; the cypress fears  
To bud, lest in pale hours it should be torn,  
And cropped lamented hearses to adorn.  
What this Eclipse, what this cloud might presage,  
This blushing Earth presenting now a stage,  
I can't conjecture, unless it should be  
A Theatre to act a tragedy.  
With these, and such like words, he vents his Soul,  
Of those o'er burth'ning maladies, and foul  
Conjectures, which such torments did in●…lict  
Upon his heart, enough even to convict  
Him of a sincere love, which like a wind,  
Hurries him to the Spring, there there to find  
His Mistress statue, O unhappy eyes  
Of mine, said he, that view the obsequies  
Of my dear love; what did not Haemon say?  
He beats his breast, endeavours to allay  
His scorned life, and from his head he tears  
Whole handfuls of his hairs.  
(Ye sullen Gods) what moved you to divide  
Her Soul from hence; distracted Haemon cried?  
Seeked yea for some revenge? 'tis true alas,  
Because her virtues did your virtues pass.  
Ye fatal Nymphs that hurry on the threads  
Of our weak lives, and cut it in the midds  
Of our best time, what moved you to be  
So envious against Antigone?  
But since your powers have made me so accursed  
By her sad death, ye powers now do your worst;  
Yet help me first to weep before I die,  
For my Antigone an elegy.  
With that he took his pen, and having wrote  
Her heavy dirge with a lamenting note,  
He laid him down upon her Tomb, and prayed,  
Then with a sphere a speedy passage made  
Towards his love, even to whose throne he cried,  
Make room for me my love, so sighed and did.  
At this mischance the Fatalls did repine,  
And turned his blood into a Columbine,  
Which still retains his nature, in three days,  
It gains its prime, and in its prime decays.  
His body then reposing on her urn,  
The Gods did to a Marble statue turn,  
Whole head upon his weary hand doth rest,  
And looking steadfast on her wounded breast,   

Surveys the blood, that blood with watery eye  
Which leaves her breast to turn t'a Tulippie.  
So Haemon towards Elysium did fly.  
But e'er he went he left this elegy  
Under her feet engraven, on which be  
The lively praise of dead Antigone.   

Ravished with Necta breathing from those dales,  
Where Zephyrus in all his worth remains,  
I passed th' Arabian deserts, and the vales,  
And thence I jorneyed o'er the Scythian plains,  
I jorneyed thence, and in Diana's bowers,  
My eyes bedewed me with distilling showers.   

I sat me down to think upon my loves,  
The thought of which proceedings made me weep,  
Until the warbling chanters of the groves  
Lulled me into a sweet and pleasant sleep.  
Me thought I sported on th' Are●…dian mountains,  
And then I sat me by Minerva's Fountains.   

Sitting and musing by those silver streams,  
Where babbling echoes whispered forth my moan,  
As if awakened from some glorious dream,  
The Muses showed me on a marble stone,  
Charactered lines of gold, whose triple lays  
I copied out to prattle forth their praise.   

Aspire to honour her whose glories such,  
Nature hath given that artificial face,  
No Muse nor Goddess can delight so much,  
Excepting her who is her chiefest grace;  
Oft so the Dove a whiter Turtle brings,  
And from the self same root, a fairer flower springs.   

Some say the fairest Cupid being moved,  
Mourned as he went, and thinking on her ●…pin'd,  
Entirely seeking, seeking her he loved,  
Till too much gazing on her made him blind,  
He called her Vesta, and to prove the same,  
Erected up a trophy to her name.   

Durst I but tell the world how much I love her,  
Omitting nothing that I could express,  
Rapt in those heavenly joys that seemed to hover,  
Only to crown her with their sacred bliss;  
Too long I should upon her praises dwell,  
Hymns are unworthy of her worth to tell.   

Symethis shows how far her voice exceeds  
Musical charms, whose sacred breath doth sink  
Enchanted hearts, and where it stays it breeds  
The sweet Nepenthe which the Gods do drink.  
Having their love, they make her what they can,  
Equal to them, too heavenly for a man.   

Many that view her sweet Elysian face  
Admiring stand, as if some silver hook  
Ran from her eyes to tie them to the place,  
Tempting the Gods to read the amorous book  
Her cheeks enclose, while every wanton air,  
As proud to kiss her, sporteth with her hair.   

Sestos enjoyed so beautiful a Lass,  
Me thought her equal could not easily be,  
If yet with Hero she compared was,  
'Twas not fair Hero that's so fair as she,  
Her face bedecked with beauties sweet adorning●…  
Exceedeth far the blushing of the morning.   

Yet see how Fate hath stole her Soul away,  
And wrapped it in the fair Elysian rest,  
Slow time, admit me here no longer stay,  
Till blessed with her, I never can be blessed;  
Receive dear Love into those Azure skies,  
This soul who whilom to thy bosom flies.   

So much for this now for the cause we weep,  
(Fair Lady) know Bacchus is fallen asleep.  
The nature of the Spring we have declared,  
So have you of Diana's battle heard;  
At this she sighed, and as she gently prayed  
For some revenge, the satyrs grew afraid:  
The winds spoke loud, Diana in choler burned,  
And each of them cleaving to trees, she turned  
To ivy, whence it still is twinding found,  
And Bacchus' nurses are with ivy crowned.  
Thus Fortune, (whose continual wheely force,  
Keeps constant course, still keeps unconstant course)  
Bequeathed her harm; and Se●…ha with amaze,  
Tripped o'er the plains towards that sacred place,  
Casperia named, and as she thus did hie,  
Trust me Arcadius came riding by,  
He looked on Sepha, oh what good it wrought  
To her, who with her earnest eyes besought,  
One ravished word to ope those lips, but they  
Lurk●… still in glorie●… garden as they lay.  
At this she sighed, o how she sighed at this,  
Farewell said she, and if I needs must miss  
Of these fair hopes, yet shall my tender mind  
Accuse thee not, thy horse did prove unkind,  
To carry thee so fast; thu●… with this thought,  
And such like meditations, she was brought  
unto the Temple now with Roses strewed,  
Then to the altar with sweet balm bedew'd●…  
Where when the Rites and Ceremonies done,  
She read this superscription was thereon.   

Those that Idalia's wanton garments wear,  
No Sacrifices for me must prepare;  
To me no quau'ring string they move  
Nor yet Alphaean music love,  
There's no perfume  
Delights the room,  
From sacred hands,  
My Altar stands  
Void and defaced,  
While I disgraced,  
With angry eyes  
Revenge the cries  
Of you who to my Altar haste,  
And in my laws take your repast;  
Pursue it still, the chief of my pretence  
And happiness, shall be your innocence.   

After sh''ve read what vile reproach and stain  
Her Queen endured, what just cause to complain  
Hung on her breast, by an aspersion thrown  
Upon her damsels glories, and her own,  
She sighs, and through enough and too much sorrow,  
Disdains to live, for true love hates to borrow  
Art to bewail mishap, and as she fainted,  
Alas too much unfit, and unacquainted  
With grief, she sighing said with swelling eye,  
The root deprived of heat, the branches die.  
Then 'gan her sense to play the tragic part  
Of Fate, and Atropos joyed in her art.  
Each thing she saw (as all were proud t'advance  
Themselves to her fair eyes) now seemed to dance,  
And turning round, the Temple where she stood,  
To her wet eyes presented a pale flood.  
While she with scrambling hands seeking to take  
Hold lest she fell, fell down into that Lake.  
Where struggling still, with many pretty dint  
Her curious hand did give the earth a print,  
For Sepha's sake, which print the earth still keeps,  
Of which we'll speak a while, while Sepha sleeps.  
A foolish Prince (not wise because he vowed 
The story of Eramio and Amissa.   
Virginity to dwell within a cloud)  
And so much honour to her did ascribe,  
Many had thought he had received a Bribe  
To vaunt her praise, and Laurellize her name,  
His mouth and he were Trumpets to her fame.  
I say a Maiden Prince was lately there,  
Whose custom was twice five times every year,  
Clothed all in white, and stained with spots of black,  
A yellow ribond tied along his back,  
To offer Turtle doves with silver plumes,  
And strew the place with aromantick fumes.  
He was a Prince, born of a royal blood,  
And being nobly born, was nobly good;  
Nor only good he was, but stout and wise,  
(Save that this fond opinion veiled his eyes,)  
Else he in every action was upright,  
And free from vice, as sorrow from delight.  
Of Courage good, for valour oft had bound  
His Temples up, and them with laurel crowned.  
Beauty lay lurking in his magic face,  
Worthy of praise since it chose such a place;  
Those ruddy lips, those cheeks so heavenly fair,  
Where Love did play the wantou with his hair,  
Did witness it, and witness this his line,  
I found engraven o'er his golden shrine,  
By some beloved hand, whose pen doth speak,  
(Though willingly his praise alas to weak.   

●…o here he lies, enshrine with his own s●●e,  
Whose virtu●…'s gone abroad to tell his name.   

This Prince returning home by those dim lights,  
After he had performed the sacred rites  
Of his pure zeal, for night came peeping on,  
Whose sable face had thru●… the weary Sun  
Beyond the Northern Pole, whether it was  
To hide her fault, and bring his end to pass;  
Or whether 'twas to view his sacrifice,  
She stealing came, or t' keep him from the eyes  
Of those destroyer's tha●… about did gather  
To steal his life, or hast destruction rather,  
To me 'tis not revealed, but sure it is,  
To sure alas, Conspicuous fate was his.  
Could Heaven permit the deed? or give consent,  
(Who should be just) to the accomplishment  
Of this nefarious act? could Phoebus' eye  
Be dazzled so, or yield a sympathy  
To this rebellious inhumanity?  
Better had he renounced the vows he made,  
And spent his days under some gloomy shade;  
Better had he in flowery fields abide,  
And lead his flock by purling Rivers side;  
Better had he bestrid the foamy waves,  
Where Pactolus his weary body laves;  
Yea better far he ne'er had been allied  
To Diana's Laws far better had he died.  
And die he did, did death commit a sin?  
No, yet when first his arrows do begin  
Untimely death to force, 'tis often said,  
His sulphur breath hath the sweet spring decayed.  
He was but young, the girdle of the year,  
By which our human actions do appear,  
And so we live and die, had ne'er embraced  
Thrice three times twice his young and tender wast,  
Scarce could he stand upon the joyful ground,  
And crop those blushing cherries which he found  
Upon their infant trees, yet envious eye,  
Conspired to end his perpetuity.  
And thus it was, as young Eramio came  
From Diane's temple (for so was his name)  
Amissa, who had oft desired to free  
Her breast of that hell-knawing jealousy  
By her conceived, for this Amissa had  
Been with the beauty of Eramio clad,  
In a supreme desire towards his love,  
Oft with her letters did she strive to move,  
With Cupid's laws him to retain alliance,  
Till he, who scorned obedience gave de●…iance.  
This could not cool that hea●… which had inspired  
A longing hopes to that which he desired,  
She sighs, and weeps; she sighs and laughs, she cries,  
And in a rage doth heave towards the skies  
Her feeble hands, she studies how to tempt  
Him to her lure, (lovers are oft exempt  
Of modesty) and in a rage doth go  
Towards her ink, (as lovers use to do)  
And frames this letter, which I chanced to meet,  
Ah me, 'twas young Eramio's winding sheet.   

Amissa to Eramio.  

I Heard how elder times enjoyed the bliss  
Of uncouth love, Fame the Historian is,  
Men whose heroic spirits scorn to bend  
Their gallant necks to any servile hand,  
Whose beauty could command as noble eyes,  
I, and as many as these Azure skies  
Ere showed thy face, to view with a desire  
Their glorious parts, and viewing to admire;  
Yet these in whom each God have plac●…d an eye,  
To make a shrill and pleasant harmony  
Of all their glories in one sound alone,  
Yet these so far have their affection shown,  
With sword and lance to make their faith approved,  
Though as thyself not half so well beloved.  
How canst thou then disdain this humble ●…ute  
Of a pure love? how can thy pen be mute?  
Many detesting love●… and scorn his name,  
Yet with their pens will certify the same  
By answer, that they may that harm prevent  
Of future hopes, for Silence gives Consent.  
Shall still unkindness overflow the brim?  
Leander did to fairest Hero swim,  
But I must come myself, and void of good  
To strengthen me, must make my tears the ●…lood,  
And when I come, thy Tower so fast is barred,  
Thy supp●●●ts weak complaint will not be heard;  
What is the cause thou dost affection scorn?  
Shall base contempt those lovely brows adorn?  
Am I too mean? look what I want of i●…,  
So much my loyal love shall make me fit.  
Let not thy thoughts accuse me cause I sue,  
For true love clad with virtue needs must woo;  
Nor let thy Answer show I am refused,  
But use me now even as thou wouldst be used.  Amissa.  

This moved Eramio much, who (worthy Knight,)  
As ignorant as free from love's delight,  
Like purling Quails, who even now are secure,  
With pleasant tunes are trained unto the lure  
Of the deceitful fowler, so was he  
As this his Answer will a witness be.    

Eramio to Amissa.  

(Fair Queen) that favour which you pleas to give  
To my unworthiness, shall make me live  
Renowned, when so much love you do bequeathe,  
Blown by the bellows of your flowery breath,  
Shall fold me in your arms, do not conceive  
'twas scorn, or want of love that made me leave  
My Answer until now, Amissa no,  
And 'mongst your other virtues please to know,  
'twas that excessive humble love I had,  
That would not link your honour to so bad,  As your Eramio.  

This fair Amissa saw, what sweet content  
To her it brought, let those whose time is spent  
On Cupid's Study know, the same I leave  
To them alone, let them alone conceive.  
It was not long (though lovers think it long)  
E'er young Eramio went, (new love is strong)  
To see Amissa, where ('tis open said)  
There was a private contract twixt them made;  
This being noised, (as Fame will quickly spread)  
Amongst his friends, how fondly he was led  
By love's Alarms, with letters they did strive  
Diana's holy fires to revive  
Within his breast, and that to love alone,  
From Venus' free, whereof this letter's one.    

Fluentus to Eramio.  

BE not so serious, striving to commend  
The blaze of Beauty, sometimes let a friend  
Partake of your well tuned notes of worth  
Which solely to yourself you warble forth,  
In some retired shade, do not adore  
A boy for God, let others harms before,  
By his deceit, make you at last be wise,  
It was for something Cupid lost his eyes.  
Love is a thing deceitful, and will charm,  
The wounded heart unto a further harm,  
Such are th'allurements of the boy, to stain  
The virtuous mind and make destruction plain.  
What desperate ends to many do ensue,  
And in their blood their guilty hands imbrue,  
To thee 'tis known, let them a warning move,  
If thou desir'st continuance of our love.  Fluentus.  

Even this Eramio read, and being moved,  
In that his friends despise him cause he loved,  
In love's excuse whose arrows he did kiss,  
He sat a while, and then returned this,    

Eramio to Fluentus●…  

RApt with Ambrosian favours of her love  
I well may serious strive, when Tempe grove  
Delights so much to whisper forth the praise,  
Of my sweet love, with Heliconian lays.  
How can my Muse be dumb? or cease to sing  
Of fair Amissa? when each silver spring  
And cooling arbour to report her fame,  
Dictates my Muse in echoing back her name;  
If she but deigns to beautify the air  
With her sweet breath, her golden knotted hair  
Receives a thousand compliments of love,  
From wanton Zephyrus, enough to move  
Conceived delights, so joys he when he finds  
How much her Nectar-breath perfumes the winds.  
If she but coverts in Pathimne bours,  
To hide her from those sweet distilling showers  
That come to kiss her from their cloudy throne  
Of vapoured mists, those Pearls finding her gone  
Lament and die, when they have lost the sweet  
They missed, yet some will stay to kiss her feet.  
Why will you then dissuade me from that chase  
I have begun, when every private place  
Records her praise? nor think I am so stupid  
In stead of higher powers to honour Cupid;  
In all things there's a mean, I will be warned  
By others harms, for since I have been scorned  
By some, the next shall teach me to be wise,  
And shame mishap; poor Cupid lost his eyes,  
By gazing so much on the love I honour,  
That all the eyes he had he spent upon her.  
Glad is Amissa when my Muse repeats  
●…er friendly looks, and then again her threats,  
●…Gainst those that bid me cease to tell her blisses,  
Sweeter than life, and half so sweet as kisses.  
●…f therefore serious friendship may advise you,  
On still, for if you cease, your love denies you;  
And if another chance to see her face,  
Take heed, 'twill draw him on to win the race.  Eramio.  

Which when Fluentus read, and fully found  
The depth of his affection, and his wound,  
This he returned,    

Fluentus to Eramio.  

REceive with this my thanks, and prosperous fa●…e  
To your proceedings, love instead of hate,  
Kindness for coyness, Venus' sweet embrace,  
And Juno's kiss, with all the pomp and grace  
That Hymen can afford, then joyful I,  
Will come and sing your Epithalamy.  
Thus far my wishes, but if counsel may  
Be took as kindly, boldly than I say,  
Trust not the winds, they are as false as fleet;  
As fleet as amorous, kissing all they meet,  
Without exception: Be not credulous,  
What Groves do whisper is suspicious;  
Ask but Narcissus, and he will declare,  
Echoes a wanton, only empty air,  
That doth but mock, the mists you say that meet  
To court your love, do but bemire her feet,  
And not adorn them, Temp, and the groves  
Are now forsook of shady leaves, and loves;  
Flora for shame resideth in the earth,  
Until the Spring do give her a new birth.  
In speculation of your Mistress eyes,  
If Cupid lost his sight in any wise,  
Beware of yours, for so it well befits,  
Lest with your eyes you also lose your wits.  
Cupid they says a God, and dares commence  
A suit with Jove, Apollo had no fence  
Against his weapon; Thus conclude I then,  
If Gods do fail, there are no hopes in men.  
Reflect on this, you say you have been scorned  
By some, therefore take heed you be not horned  
By others, for this Proverb is both known  
And true, an evil seldom comes alone.  
Run not too fast, although you see her face,  
(Love will beguile, Jove did a cloud embrace,)  
Lest when with pain you traversed have the ground,  
You win a prize is better lost than found.  Fluentus.  

Eramio stood amazed, so quick a change  
Should hurl about occasions to so strange  
An intercepted plot: O heaven's said he,  
Can this delusion spring from Amity?  
From enmity it comes, Fluentus knows  
A true affected heart admits no shows  
Of wavering thoughts, to cloak a real sign  
Of occult things, of harmonies divine:  
The world I know, even as the dwellers use it,  
Is pregnant full of sinners that abuse it.  
But let them live, while I in faith involved,  
Fluentus, do by this make thee resolved.    

Eramio to Fluentus.  

REports of Gratulations to retain  
Me for your vowed servant are but vain,  
For prosperous gales may drive me more your debtor  
Through Neptune's foamy floods, to love you better  
For this pretext, Epithalamium like,  
The mirror of which influence doth strike,  
That Epithesis to my humid sense,  
That young Leander like, I banish hence  
Foolish despair, when such an easy price,  
Favoured by love, may win a merchandise,  
Richer than Cholchos pride, such power and force,  
Have your Platonic lines, to make a course,  
That once seemed tedious, when it was begun,  
Pleasant and short to those that needs must run.  
Thus far my thanks, your counsel being had  
Kindly, and seriously, of one as glad  
As may be, when he finds a friend will say,  
And botch his lines, to make an hour a day;  
Trust me the winds are not so false as fleet,  
Nor amorous, nor kiss they all they meet  
Without exception, those be foolish winds,  
Which Bore●…s like blusters on all it finds.  
There is indeed a breath that takes delight.  
With his obdurate busses to affright  
Chaldei met, come from Lavinium dales  
In love's disgrace, but these are not the gales  
My Muse reports of, 'tis a pleasing air,  
Which only sits, and nestles in the hair  
Of my dear love, which like a feathered rain,  
Circuits the Globe and thither comes again,  
Witness the heads of those Aeolin streams,  
Whose bubbling currents murmur forth the dreams  
Of Nymphs, and satyrs, which acount the groves  
The ardent Salopia for their loves.  
Ardent Narcissus missed the love he sought,  
Yet, foolish boy, what ere he wished he caught,  
He loved himself, and when himself he misses,  
The echoes mock him for his foolish wishes,  
(Amidst such Hero and such ●…hisban choices)  
Thrusting him farther with their wanton voices,  
To deeper griefs, mounted on th'highest tops  
Dispair could grant; those clear and silver drops,  
Which only lingered time to kiss she sweet,  
The innocent, the pur●…, and heavenly feet  
Of my fair love, amazed him to behold,  
For what they touched they straightway turned to gold;  
For shame Queen Flora deigns not to appear,  
Abashed to se●… a fairer Flora here;  
Nor Cynthia did more chastity embrace  
Than she, nor Venus a more lovely face,  
Whose radiant eyes that kindle Cupid's fire,  
Are Cos amoris, whetstones of desire.  
Then strive not this entire knot to undo,  
For I can love thee and Amissa too.  Eramio.  

This by the one wrote, by the other read,  
Stopped Letters mouths, and sudden parley bred,  
In which dispute Eramio did haste  
To publish proofs, but in his proofs was cast.  
O dear Fluentus, said Eramio,  
In whom my soul revives, by this I know  
Thou art upright; so will I be upright,  
No more the wicked boy shall taint my sight  
With his deluding parables, I hate  
His idle laws, and at as high a rate  
Esteem Diana's worship, as before  
I ever did, and her alone adore;  
And will you then neglect that lovely chase,  
(Fluentus said) you so much did embrace?  
I will said he, and if Eramio live,  
No more I will my youth and honour give  
To foolish love; Idalia's son I bid  
Thy laws adieu; and so indeed he did.  
Which when his love, the fair Amissa knew,  
How all her wished joys abortive grew,  
She watched a time, even as Eramio came  
From sweet Casperia, Diana's sacred flame,  
And there by force, love conquering did move her,  
By force to make Eramio her lover.  
Eramio starts, mistrusting even as reason  
Herself would do some new intended treason.  
What cause said he hath urged you to this plot,  
Against my life, (ye men) I know ye not?  
About to strike, the fair Amissa cries,  
O ●…old thy blow, for if thou strik'st she dies  
Whose death thou seek'st. And came the cause from thee  
Eramio said? let this thy glory be  
Thou worst of Women, that thou hast received  
Thy death from him, whose hand hath thee bereav'●…  
Of a polluted soul; when thou shalt come,  
'Fore Rh●…damanth there to receive thy doom  
For this last act, lament thyself, and howl,  
In that thou hast been tainted with so foul  
An ignominious stain; could thy base hear●…  
Permit fruition to this dev'●…ish art  
Of base conspiracy? O hellbred evil!  
Hatched by infernal potions of that devil  
Father to thee, and thine; had I supposed,  
So fair a frame as thine could have incloed  
Such hateful guess within, or had I thought  
Thy often flattering messages had wrought  
By that black art, from which this harm proceeds,  
Or such fair beauty could have masked such deeds,  
Long since thy soul to that black Cave had fled  
Of envious night, and I snatched from thy head  
Those glorious Anadems thou used to wear,  
Chaplets of curious flowers I did prepare  
For thy bewitching brows, O how I hate  
My wicked star, my too too envious fate;  
I hate the time that did induce desire  
Of love, I hate the fuel caused the fire,  
I hate my eyes too credulous and kind,  
To thy false heart, that strikes thy beauty blind.  
And which more honour from thy breast discovers,  
To give example to young foolish lovers;  
I vow by heaven, and all the powers there be  
Therein, I hate myself for loving thee.  
His words half spoke Cyandus daughter cries,  
Is this the meed of zealous love? and dies.  
For young Eramio in this plot deceived,  
Up from the ground the massy stone had heaved,  
Borne by the fury of a Tyrannous spite,  
And as his present anger did invite,  
Hurled it amongst them, heard you not the sounds,  
Of struggling vials pouring from their wounds  
Consumed oil? Amissa's feeble heart  
Paying untimely death for his wished dart  
Its purest streams, but lo a sudden change,  
Wrought by inspired miracles doth range  
There deep amazed ears, amidst the throngs  
Of their shrill cries were heard Elysian songs,  
Like those when Jove his Ganymede had stol●…,  
Gr●…nting a pleasant convoy to her soul.  
Her soul and body gone those heaven's to grace,  
As too too worthy for this sordid place;  
Her heart to manifest the clear complexion  
Of her upright, of her unstained affection,  
Was metamorphosed to a diamond,  
Which so th'afflicted lover did affront  
With visions, dreams, and such like signs, to move  
A good conceit of her unspotted love.  
Hold, hold, said he, let my revenge alone,  
The Gods have ways enough, if once but shown,  
The time will come, when V●●us will inspire  
Into each scornful breast tormenting fire,  
By nought to be extinguished, for I know,  
If Poets can divine, it must be so;  
It must be so, and those who now deride  
Her holy laws, and have too much relied  
Upon the foolish worships of the Queen  
Of Chastity, whose power is still unseen,  
Even as I am, so will I always pray,  
Shall be perplexed a thousand times a day;  
This hand, (Cursed be this hand, and every hand  
That rescued me, and helped me to withstand  
That glorious yoke my neck should daily move  
Under Amissa's too respective love.)  
This hand no more shall sprinkle the presume  
Of frankincense, in Diana's hallowed room,  
But if it ever an oblation make,  
To any Altar, or do e'er partake  
In any solemn sacrificers vow,   

More zeal and honour shall appear in mine,  
Amissa, it shall be upon thy shrine.  
These words were stopped, by Menothantes' Father,  
Who to revenge his sister's death, but rather  
To quit his stock of an abusive crime  
Was laid upon the Worthies of the time,  
Supposed, though false by him, (whereof you have  
In this portrait a Copy, which I leave  
To your chaste eyes, in hope you will permit  
A charitable censure over it,  
For sweet Eramio's sake) old Pae●●s son,  
Striving to perfect what he had begun,  
(To which his bloody heart had been enured)  
With his envenomed dart a death procured  
To young Eramio, who sighing said,  
See, see, unhappy fate hath me betrayed.  
But while speaks, he to Amissa goes,  
Invokes the powers to pardon him, and throws  
His body on the blood-besprinkled ground,  
Where, when distilling tears had washed her wounds,  
Ay me, said he, that this doth us betide,  
So kissed into her lips his soul, and died.   

So much the Cretan lad, with weeping voice  
Had told, and was about to tell the rest;  
But lest said he (Ladies) the heavy noise  
Of her mishap, should your chaste ears molest,  
A while give respite to my tongue, that I  
May gather strength to end her Tragedy.    
Finis Libri Primi.   


SO far my Childish Muse the wanton played,  
To crop those sweets the flowery Meadons bore,  
Pleasing herself in valleys as she strayed,  
Unable yet those lofty hills to soar;  
But now her wings by stronger winds aspire,  
In deeper songs to tune her warbling lyre.   

For what before her infant brain declared,  
Was but a key to tune her quau'ring strings,  
Always to have her Instruments prepared  
To sing more sweet, when she of Sepha sings,  
Who from above, even for her virtue's sake,  
Will shrill my sound, and better music make.   

Now let me tell how EPIMINIDES,  
With weeping voice, and penetrating eyes,  
Revived the Ladies, who themselves did please●…  
By purling streams to wail his miseries,  
Who, while the Meads with his complainings rang,  
Wiping his eyes, these sad enconiums sang.    

THE history OF ARCADIUS and SEPHA.  
Liber Secundus.  

I Told you (Ladies) if your tender hearts  
Admit attention, while my tongue imparts  
Such heavy news, how young Eramio came  
With yearly incense, to the hallowed fame  
Of the Alphaean worship, and how fate  
Abridged his life with nights eternal date.  
I told you also (leaving her asleep)  
How Sepha's eyes o'ercharged with tears did weep,  
And as she swooned how her curious hands  
Did give the earth a print, which print still stands,  
To keep her fame alive, but what it was,  
Through too much grief my to●…gue did overpass,  
As fittest, it seems, to be inserted here,  
That as my heavy story doth draw near  
Towards her end, so her immortal praise,  
Rapt in her sweet enconiums may raise  
conjugal tears from each distilling eye,  
Whose praise and fame shall them accompany  
With her harmonious voice, I mean the love  
Her soul will power upon them from above.  
And that her eyes may make all sighs the fairer,  
Her soul will smile to see the love they bare her.  
The spices which Eramio had strewed  
About the altar, her wet eyes bedewed  
With sorrowing tears, which daily they did cast  
Upon the same, and made thereof a paste;  
Like those congealed clouds which some have given  
A glorious title, called the walls of Heaven.  
So Sepha falling, fell upon the same,  
From whose fair hand that fair impression came,  
By some swift Savo called, for many say  
From thence Campanian 
a A River in Campania.  Savo took her way,  
And there it is where each Campanian maid,  
For yearly offerings her vow hath paid  
With the Medean draughts, t' revive the fame  
Of Sepha dead; Savo from Sepha came:  
But that's not all, the print whereof I spoke,  
Though some affirm 'tis, yet 'tis not a Lake.  
For if the spices which Eramio cast,  
Dried up her tears, and thereof made a paste,  
How can a Lake ensue? but this is sure,  
There was a corner of the altar pure  
From any blot, on this Eramio laid  
His aromatic spices as he prayed.  
This being turned into a past by those  
Distilling eyes (which dying seldom close,)   

The palm of her fair hand did gently press  
The yielding paste, and as she up it reared,  
Like a triangled heart the print appeared,  
The fingers standing just upon the heart,  
Presented Cupid's shafts, which he doth dart  
On simple souls, from whence ensues the blood,  
The blood being gone, came that ●…am●…anian flood;  
Thus palm and fingers having shown the love  
By ●…upids net entangled, straight did move  
T'another form no figure there was seen,  
While yet they gaze upon't, the place grows green;  
At this they stare, at this a flower up-starts,  
Which still presents the form of wounded hearts.  
This being seen by Nymphs that haunt the Springs,  
Each took a slip, it to their Mansion brings,  
Where being set, it's now in every grove,  
A pretty flower, and called the L●…dy-glove.  
Now let me tell of Sepha, and her hap  
That did ensue, while she in fortune's lap  
Lies lulled asleep, (sleep had her sense bereaved)  
(And chie●…ly for the love she had conceived  
Of her Arcadius) bethinking hard,  
Either he is of charity debarred,  
Or linked t' another's virtue, and surmising  
he's not to be imbrac'd●… waking and rising,  
She found herself by him to be embraced,  
Who, being present at her fall, did haste  
To hale her breath again; those eyes that wrought  
Confusion first, now more confusion brought;  
Having Arcadus kissed, she thinks some dream  
Deludes her wandering sense, in which extreme  
Rapt with conceit of this her present good,  
Her greedy eyes with ardent wishes wooed,  
That Heaven, in which her present hopes remained  
A world's continuance, and she had obtained  
What she desired, had not the winged boy  
Unbent his bow, with period of their joy.  
Yet something to her hopes he did admit,  
To whet the heavy sacrificers wit;  
While young Arcadius with trembling hand,  
Felt how the pulse, as if at death's command,  
Sounded a loud Alarm; fair heaven said he,  
In whom all grace and virtues planted be,  
Why will you suffer that 
a grief●…  infernal hound?  
To dare to come, to give this heart this wound?  
Use that celestial power, the powerful Gods  
Have given, that grief and you may live at odds.  
I know those eyes, one wink from those fair eyes  
Have power to banish hence all miseries  
Are incident to man so rare a gift  
Did nature find, when only but this shift  
T' amaze spectators she for you had left,  
For know when Nature framed you she befreft  
The world of all perfections, to make  
You of divine, and heavenly good partake,  
As well as human, that there might agree  
In you, of every grace a sympathy.  
So said, the blushing damsel with delight  
Of this new friend, did with her eyes requite  
His too soon ended speech, O heaven's she said,  
That have respect to me unworthy maid,  
And deign this good to me so oft desired,  
Direct me so, that e'er I have expired  
This perfect bliss, and am deprived the same,  
I may enjoy the knowledge of his name.  
Grant this (ye Gods) to me, impatient, till  
I know his naame, his country, and his will.  
Then did she pull her scarf from off her face,  
And putting by her hair with that sweet grace,  
That Venus used, when to Adonis' eyes  
She did expose her love, Sepha did rise  
With such sweet looks as cannot be expressed,  
And said, these favours Sir, and sighed the rest.  
Well, thought Arcadius, something there remains,  
And 'tis some weighty cause that it detains,  
(Grant heaven) that as I hope, so it may prove,  
By her unpolished sentence to be love.  
For he in dreams and visions oft had seen  
A Lady, who for him alone had been  
Tortured a thousand ways, with blubbered cheeks,  
She oft had said, receive her love, who seeks  
No other life, than for thy own deserts  
T' enjoy thy presence, and admire thy parts.  
She being now recovered sat her down  
To view Arcadius, whom the Priest did crown  
With wreaths of laurel, which he always wore  
For the upright affection that he bore.  
Then to the Altar went he, where he prayed,  
While Sepha overcome with passion, said,  
So loud that he might hear, were I the Saint  
To whom he prays, sure I would hear his plaint.  
At this Arcadius looked upon her lips,  
And blessed them that they let that message slip;  
Then with his pure devotion onward goes,  
and on the Altar throws  
A winged heart, which lately he had got  
For sacrifice, about the heart was wrote  
These next ensuing lines.   

The purest piece of man's delight,  
In whom his life, and Love consists,  
Whose softness keeps from gloomy night,  
Which nought can pierce, but Amatysts●…  
Is here presented on thy Throne,  
Bedewed with tears of faithful vows,  
Presenting thee what is thy own,  
The best to please thy virgin brows,  
To fan thy face with her cool wings,  
And fly the faster as she sings.   

Which I by chance,  
The better hi●… sad story to advance,  
Have copied forth; about the wings there was  
Some other Lines, which I will not let' pass,  
That (Gentle Ladies) ye may not have cause,  
Of his devotion to detract th' applause.   

Fly swift my thoughts, and through this sacred fire,  
That by those sweet distilling drops above,  
So may I live, and scape the Dart,  
And flourish like those Flowers it fills  
First let V●…luptas weep,  
C●…st●…lio●… liquour's free,  
●…'re I forsake  
Or yet deny   

Mount up to her, ●…et her to me retire,  
She may infuse to me religious love,  
While her sweet breath saius up my heart,  
With Nectar sweet, which one frown kills,  
And Gloria fall asleep,  
Medea bitter be,  
Thy praise to make,  
Thy ●…i●…tie.   

These and the like Arcadius presents,  
Mingled with deep, and choice perfuming scents  
Of many bitter sighs, he turned him round,  
Salutes the Priest, the Altar, and the ground  
Whereon it stood. then to fair Sepha turns,  
Who while her heart with strange affection burns,  
Meets him with nimble eyes, he gently bends  
A Trembling Cringe to Sepha, who attends  
With her impatient ears that happy hour,  
When the wished Sun shall show that gracious flower  
She loves unknown, till a sigh doth bewray,  
As if the prologue for a following play,  
These next ensuing words, and such they were,  
They did requite the time she stayed to hear.  
Harpoc a●…es may claim a vow I made, 
The Go●… of Silence   
(Fair Lady) under his beloved shade;  
When my incipient years too too blame,  
With rash attempts to Lauralize the fame  
Of ●…upids power, invested that disgrace,  
Which still should be a shadow to my face.  
Then, cause one way did lead to both their Towers,  
He took her magic hand, and with whole showers  
Of tears first washed them, then with a faint kiss,  
Dried them, and walking homeward told her this.   

The story of PHAON and Sapph.  
In Lesbos famous for the comic lays,  
That used to spring from her overflowing praise,  
Twice famous Sapph dwelled the fairest maid  
Mit●…lin had, of whom it once was said  
Amongst the Gods, a sudden question was,  
If Sapph, or Thalia did surpass  
In Lyribliring tunes, it long remained,  
Till Mn●…mosyne the Mother was constrained,  
To say they both from her begetting sprang,  
And each of th' others warbling Lyra a sang.  
There was a Town in Lesbos●… now defaced,  
An●…issa named, by Neptune's arms embraced;  
There Sapph had a Tower, in it a grove  
Bedecked with pearls, and strewed about with love;  
●●u●…othean●…branches overspread the same,  
And from the shadows perfect odours came.  
To dress it most there was a purple bed,  
All wrought in works, with azure mantles spread,  
The tables did unspotted carpets hold  
Of ●…yrian dies, the edges fringed with gold.  
Along this grove there stealing ran a Spring,  
Where Sapph tuned her Muse, for she could sing  
In golden verse, and teach the best a vain  
Beyond the music of their sweetest strain.  
Here while she sang, a ruddy youth appeared,  
Drawn by the sweetness of the voice he heard,  
Sing on said he (fair Lady) let not me,  
Too bold, give period to your melody.  
Nor blame me for my over bold attempt,  
(Although I yield of modesty exempt  
●…n doing this) and yet not over bold,  
For who so hears the voice, and doth behold  
The lips from whence it comes, would be as sad  
As I, and trust me Lady if I had  
But skill to tempt you with so sweet a touch,  
Assure you, you yourself would do as much.  
She answers not, for why the little God  
Had touched her heart before, and made a rod  
For one contempt was past, she viewed him hard,  
Whose serious looks made Phaon half afeard  
She was displeased, about to go she cries,  
Stay gentle Knight, and take with thee the prize,  
To thee alone assured; the boy looked pale,  
But straight a ruddy blush did make a veil  
T'obscure the same; while thus he panting stood,  
A thousand times he wished him in the Wood  
From whence he came, and speaking not a word,  
Let fall his hat, his javelin and his sword.  
She being young, and glad of an occasion,  
Stooped down to take them up; he with persuasion  
Of an half showing love, detains her hand  
From it, and with his fingers made the band  
To chain them fast, (now Love had laid his scene)  
And drawed the tragic plot, whereon must lean  
The ground of all his Acts; (great Deity)  
When thy foreseeing nove-sight can descry  
Things which will hap, why dost thou train their love●…  
With pleasant music to deceitful groves?  
See how the love of some with equal weight,  
By virtue poised, live free from all deceit,  
To whom thou helpest with thy beloved darts,  
And link'st their true inviolable hearts,  
Why dealest not so withal? are some too hard?  
Or hath enchanted spells their heart●… debarred  
From thy keen shafts? you Powers should be upright  
Not harm●…ull Gods●… yet thou still tak'st delight  
In bloody ends, why didst not wink at these?  
And send thy shafts a thousand other ways  
That more deserved thy anger? or if needs  
Thou wouldst be doing, while thy power proceeds  
In lofty flames one flame requires another.  
Why didst thou wound the one, and not the other?  
For (Lady) so it passed between the lovers,  
That after little pause Sapph discovers  
Those kindled flames which never can expire,  
But his contempt adds fuel to her fire.  
Immodest Girl he said, why art so rude  
To woo? when virtuous women should be wooed,  
And scarce obtained by wooing, O forbear,  
Sweet Sapph cried, if I do not prepare  
A just excuse by none to be denied,  
Never let me— so sat her down and cried.  
He moved for pity more to see her tears,  
Than touched with any loyal love he bears,  
Sat down by her, while she despairing, laid  
Her eyes on his, her hands on his, and said,  
Ay me, that 
a Hei mihi quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbls●…  herbs for love no cure afford,  
Whose too too jealous actions will accord  
To nought but semblable desire, that lost,  
What pain more vile than lovers that are crossed  
With hopeless hopes? they say'ts a 
b Credo ali quis Daemon, &c.  God that work●…  
The same, but sure some devil 'tis that lurks  
His opportunity how to destroy,  
And tear the Soul from her aspiring joy.  
Now to prevent occasions that may fall,  
Is serious love, which will all harms appall,  
Neglect whereof by many is deplored,  
Ay me! that herbs for love no cure afford●…  
Now for the fault whereof I am accused,  
O blame me not, for 'tis no fault I used;  
For if affection spurs a man to love,  
●…Tis that affection needs must make him move  
His suit to us, and we, when we affect,  
And see the like from them, seem to neglect  
Their scorned suit, but so our frowns appear,  
Mixed with a faint desire, and careful fear  
It should displease them, that we may unite,  
A careless love, with an entire delight.  
Again, when men do see a curious stone,  
The only hopes of their foundation,  
How often do they slight with scornful eye,  
Neglect, disgrace, dispraise, and spurn it by?  
The more to move and stir up an excess  
Of disrespect, and make the value less.  
Even so we handle men, who still endure  
A thousands deaths, to train us to their lure,  
And were we sure they could not us forsake,  
we'd dally more, even more delight to make.  
Even so as men are caught, even so are we,  
When we affect those that our service flee;  
What kind salutes, embraces and constraints  
Ought we to use? lest our untuned complaints  
Unpitied die, and we with sorrows scope,  
As free from pleasure die, as free from hope.  
Thou art a stranger Pha●…n to this place,  
But I have known thy name, and know thy race,  

a An Italian who wrote the private sedition of Illyricum.  Eumenion stories do thy honour tell,  
Istria Eumenion knew thy Parents well,  
Whose Fathers head upheld the weighty Crown  
Of Illyris, which none could trample down,  
Though many envied, free from harm he laid  
His bones to rest, with whom the Crown decayed.  
Now fate to show a model of her power,  
On thy Illyricum began to lower;  
Thy 
b 
These sprung first from the Sons of Lara, by the Painims called household Gods, of whom Ovid: 
Ponitur ad Patrios barbara praeda d●…os.    household Gods, acquainted with the cries  
Of thy decaying subjects, cast their eyes  
This way, and that, 'twas yours O Gods to bid  
Denial to sedition that was hid  
In Catelinian breasts, and to surcease  
The period of your domestic ease.  
In this uproar (what fruits seditions bring  
May well be guest, for every one was King)  
The better sort prepared for thee and thine  
A waftage over the beloved Rhyne  
To Lesbos this; thou hadst not long been here,  
But private envy did thy walls uprear,  
And did beguile to all posterity  
Thee of thy glory, and the Crown of thee.  
These things thy household Gods (to Lesbos brought)  
Foreseeing good, have for thy own good wrought,  
That thou Mayst gain a greater Crown than that  
Illyrius had, and be more honoured at  
Those festivals, when yearly thou partak'st  
Of Triumphs, which to Chimney Gods thou mak'st.  
This was a work divine, and happy too,  
(If any happiness from grief ensue)  
That thou wast here concealed, for many vowed,  
And thundered forth the fame thereof aloud,  
Of thy ensuing death, while thou wast still  
In pupil age, and knew'st, nor didst no ill,  
But 'twas the Providence of you that dwell  
In lofty heaven's (ye Powers) and to expel  
All harm from him who must your laws maintain,  
That when his perfect strength he doth obtain,  
He may reward their deeds that envy bred,  
And maugre those that to rebellion led.  
Here wast thou brought, here hast thou daily stayed,  
And (while thy better subjects sought thee) played  
Beguiling time away; perhaps you'd know,  
What moved the powers to permit thee so  
Untimely ruin, know they did anoint  
Thee King of famous Lesbos, and appoint  
This means alone to make their power approved,  
And bring thee here of me to be beloved.  
To this faint speech he intermission made  
With heavy sighs, and then (fair Lady) said,  
The heaven's have robbed me of succeeding bliss,  
And hid me from those means to grant you this  
I most desire, behold my love I die,  
My trouled soul methinks doth seem to fly  
Through silent Caves and Fields, two pleasant gates  
Open wide to take me in, wherein there waits  
A Crown of gold, neither by arm or hand  
Supported, but of its free power doth stand,  
Now sits upon my head, these things I see,  
And yet I live, can this a vision be?  
About to stir, O stir me not he cries,  
My feet stick fast, Sapph farewell, and dies.  
While yet he speaks, my Parents wayward fate,  
Must be accompanied with the date  
Of my despised life, a fearful rind  
Of Citron trembling read, doth creeping bind  
His not half closed speech, his curled hair,  
Which gallants of his time did use to wear  
Of an indifferent length, now upward heaves,  
Towards the skies their gold re●…ulgent leaves.  
Sapph at this exclaims, laments, invokes  
No Power nor God, but seeks by hasty strokes,  
As a fit sacrifice unto her friend,  
From her beloved breast her soul to send.  
A while she silent stood, belike to think,  
Which was the safest way for her to drink  
Of the same cup her Phaon did, at last  
(As evil thoughts will quickly to one haste)  
She saw the Spring that ran along the Grove,  
'Tis you fair streams must send me to my Love.  
Behold, dear Love, with what impatient heat,  
My soul aspires to mount to that blessed seat,  
Where thou blessed sit'st, stretch out thy sacred hand,  
And with safe conduct draw me to that land,  
That we may taste the joys the valley yields;  
And hand in hand may walk th' Elis●…an fields.  
This said, she turns her face unto the Tree,  
And kissing it●… said, if thou still canst see,  
Behold how irksome I enjoy that breath,  
Which still detains my meeting thee in death:  
With that she saw his sword, which she did take,  
And having kissed it for the owner's sake;  
Salutes her breast with many weeping wounds,  
Then casts herself into the Spring, and drown'ds.  
There is a Hill in Paphlagonia, named  
Cytorus, whither this mischance was famed;  
Myself was present there when many rude,  
And base untutured peasants did intrude  
Into our 
a plays called acts, used every fifth year in honour of Apollo.  games, they were, as since I heard  
Those base insulting Traitors, that debarred  
Wendenlands Crown from righteous Phaon's brow,  
These (cause the Gods had quit them of the vows  
They made to work his death) with open cries,  
Proclaimed their thanks, and sent them to the skies.  
But Venus, who in constant love delights,  
And every perfect amity requites,  
Exiled their joy, each one perceives their arms  
To branches grow, each one partakes the harms  
Of their deserts, 
b The●●x tree.  a tree there is which bears  
His summer hue, and it in winter wears,  
To this she turns them, that continual green  
Might manifest their never pardoned sin.  
This done I saw a Knight of courage bold,  
Clothed all in argent armour, stripped with gold,  
Who vowed, the death of one of us should pay  
For her mishap, to crown the heavy day  
With Anadems from his victorious hand,  
I too too over forward, did demand  
What was the cause; discourteous Knight he said,  
Dost not repent thee that thou hast betrayed  
That honoured Lady? while I ignorant  
Of what he meant, he said 'tis not the want  
Of lance, shall keep thee safe, till I have shown  
Thy just revenge; so threw away his own.  
But with his sword he taught me what to do,  
And I myself had sword and armour too  
Ready to answer him; the fight was long,  
And had been longer too, till I too strong,  
With an unlucky blow, o were't ungiven,  
Betrayed his life, and sent his soul to Heaven:  
'twas ●…lphitheon, who of long had loved  
Sapph, now dead, whose suit I oft had moved  
In his behalf, now hearing of her fate,  
Either increased in him suspicious hate  
Towards me, or furious else did frantic strike,  
Amazed, unkind to every one alike;  
Dying he knew me, and bewailed his loss,  
My friend Arcadius said he, the cross  
Of this my present state, ought not to be  
A blot to stain our former amity  
I die, let my remembrance have a place  
In thy just heart, it shall be no disgrace.  
Though envy stole my sense, o 'tis no blot,  
No fault at all was mine; I knew thee not  
When here I met thee first; My dearest friend,  
I die, love the remembrance of my end.  
So said, he went away, while I distraught  
For grief of this inhuman wicked fault,  
Vowed never more to move a Lady's heart  
Nor for myself, nor for another's part.  
Arca●…ius ceased, and Se●…ha's turn was now.  
Who said (Beloved and worthy Knight) that vow  
You easily may infringe, and yet be blessed.  
A rash conceit was never held the best.  
You say it may be, and it shall be so.  
Arcadius said, chiefly for that I know  
When virtue, beauty, and entire delight,  
Our ne'er dissolved affection do unite  
The fault appears the less the glorious eyes  
Of the All-seeing power do despise  
Continual grief, 
a Semel in anno ridet Apollo.  and ●…ove himself erst whi●…e  
Carousing bowls of wine is seen to smile.  
Fair Lady know, as yet to me unknown,  
Your beauty and your virtues have oreslown  
My willing yielding sense, a secret fire,  
Continually increasing through desire  
To honour your admired parts, doth move,  
By nought to be extinguished but your love.  

b Res est solliciti plena cimoris amor.  Love is a thing full of suspicious care,  
By every churlish wind blown to despair.  
Silent Canius died for love, not known  
To her, who did his pure affection own.  
I therefore open my heart before your eyes,  
Not doubting but you're kind as well as wise;  
Not doubting but you're wise as well as kind.  
Fair Sepha said, your worth I know may find  
Far better Ladies, that may more content  
Your love than I, and then you will repent  
You of your deed, which still will you mole●…t,  
A rash conceit was never held the best.  
Though all the beauties in the world were one,  
Said he, and I by right might seize upon  
The same, yet would I for thy virtue's sake,  
Aspire no better fortune, than to make  
Thee my beloved wife, 
* 
Tibullus Lib. 4 
Illam qui●…quid agit, quoquo vestigia vertit,  
Composuit furtim, subsequ●…turque decor,  
Seu solvit crines susis decet esse capillis,  
Seu compsit, comp●…is est reveren●…a comis.    where e'er thou art,  
What ere thou dost, the grace's grace impart  
To thy sweet self; this hair, this lovely hair,  
If loose, as thou dost often use to wear,  
Ostends thy freer beauty, or if knit,  
It shows rare wisdom is enclosed in it.  
In fine they are the chains that link desire  
In every breast, and kindle Cupid's fire,  
For which soever way thou dost them wear,  
They fetch thee honour, and thy honour bear.  
To me she said you please to speak the best,  
O thought you of me so I should be blessed,  
Not that my fond conceit desires to be  
Linked with each pleasing object that I see,  
But of a long retained affection, I  
Desire the bonds of perfect amity;  
And since you please to honour me so well  
With common friendship, that in all should dwell,  
Tell me the name of that thrice blessed place  
Enjoys your presence, and from what blessed race  
You draw your line; me Arathea claims  
Said he, my much unhappy parents' names,  
Were Capaneus, and Evadne, they  
Of good report and noble progeny,  
My Father, led by just revenge, was chief  
Of those that wrought distressed Thebes grief,  
Who having wed my Mother then but young  
And of a pleasant face, whose Parents sprung  
From Juno's breasts, unto those wars was called;  
Where after many skirmishes befalled  
To him this sad mishap, when various fights  
Had closed up many with eternal nights,  
He furious, and impatient of delay,  
Resolved a quick dispatch, and with that day  
To end the wars, a Ladder he devices,  
Of cords composed, by which he enterprises  
Apparent means to scale the walls, but lo,  
About to climb, some wicked hand doth throw  
A stone upon him; yet i'll climb he said;  
But while his soldier's c●●e unto his aid,  
For all their hopes upon his worth relied,  
He gave directions for the wars and died.  
My Mother too too heavy for his harm,  
Did help his wounded body to unarm,  
When all his friends to honour him the more,  
Were present, and his ruin did deplore.  

a 
An ancient use to burn the bodies of the dead, and put the Ashes into Vessels which they called ●●nes; whereof Ovid Met: Lib. 4. 
Quodque rogis superest, una requiescit in urna.    But while the fire consumes with greedy flame  
His ●…lesh, my Mother runs into the same;  
To show when virtue shrines an upr●…ght heart,  
Death never can united honour part.  
In this Campania where my Castle stands,  
I was instructed by the careful hands  
Of Callias, till understanding bad  
Revenge be done for wrongs my Parents had.  
I moved the wars afresh, what means I made,  
With all-perswading reasons to persuade  
The soldiers aid, is this   

O You, said I, beloved for upright ways,  
And feared of all for valour that obeys  
Your conquering arms! I purpose not to add  
Words to your virtues, nor my speech to clad  
With flattering robes, my just revenge shall cause  
A triumph for that never scorned applause  
Of your victorious fame, which daily moved  
Towards your names, O you so well beloved!  
Your noble friend my Father, to whose shrine  
You pay your yearly tears, is now divine,  
He sorry for that harm which would betide  
Your never conquered arms i●… that he died,  
Died loath to leave you, now there is a time,  
To heap revenge against them for that crime  
Those Coward traitors acted, when they slew  
Your noble friend my Father; let us view  
The cause that moves us to display our war,  
O is't not meritorious, and far  
Beyond the price of their despised blood?  
Your wisdom knows your loss, our cause is good;  
Too good alas for them, I know your love  
Still, still, remains alive, which makes me move  
Those val●…ant hearts which always you enjoyed,  
To seek revenge 'gainst those that have destroyed  
Your noble friend my Father: This, o this  
Makes me require your help, nor greater bliss  
Can to your dying tombs more honour gather,  
Than to revenge your noble friend my Father.  
O you so well beloved, I need not show  
The sloth●…ull Thebans fearfulness, you know  
The manner, and the matter of their war,  
How through disorder, and discord they jar  
Amongst themselves, your swords their Towers shake  
At the remembrance of your names they quake.  
When in the skirmage you your valour send,  
To court their necks, and show their lives their end,  
Bethink you for whose sake you fight, and let  
His wonted valour and remembrance whet  
Your all-commanding swords, what greater gain  
Than their subjection can you obtain?  
Honour from thence will spring, their wealth & glorie●…  
By you enjoyed, will fill your famous stories  
With never-dying fame, and for your merit,  
Your Sons shall everlasting praise inherit.  
We for revenge, renown, and amity,  
Our wars display, they but for liberty;  
When we have girt their City with the choice  
Of martial men, then shall we hear their voice  
Come creeping to us, but our ears are stopped  
From traitor's mouths, till we have overtopped  
(For justice sake, on which we have relied)  
Their weighty sins, and high aspiring pride.  
O you beloved of all, 'tis not a cause  
Of little worth, nor only for applause  
I move you to this War, survey your hearts,  
There see his tomb, his wounds, and his deserts  
Ever to be admired, your noble friend  
My Father, whose too too unhappy end  
Requires their blood●… desires no greater bliss,  
Than to present his joyful soul with this.  
These and such words I used, with me they swore  
To fetch the glory which the Thebans wore,  
And placed upon my father's tomb, to crown  
Him with heroic conquests, and renown.  
With me they went, with me they overcame  
The Thebans pride, and brought with them their fame.  
Detained at wars, I saw you not, till late  
Returning home, my ever happy fate  
Blessed me to hear your voice; My nimble Steed  
To gratulate my labour with the deed,  
So well beloved (as if he knew my mind)  
Lost me, that you fair Lady might me find.  
At this she smiles, while his loved tale goes on;  
Now since it is your chance to light upon  
What was ordained your own, debar me not  
That service from, which is my own by lot.  
While I enfolded in your love declare  
Those sweet contents in Venus' pleasures are.  

a Catullu●…. Quis me uno vivit felicior? aut magis hac est optand●● vitâ dicere quis poterit.  For who with more delight can live? What are  
Those joys that may with these delights compare?  
She blushed and said, for e'er she spoke she blushed,  
Then from her sweet, but angry lips there rushed  
This angry speech, (beloved Sir) I owe  
More inward zeal than yet I will bestow  
On your lascivious love, and being near  
Her Talmos, flung away, and would not hear  
His quick-prepared excuse, who over-waid  
With death-tormenting grief, looked up and said,  
Shall these contempts overrule thy virtuous will?  
O Sepha, knowest thou whom thy scorns do kill?  
Well she goes on, nor looks behind to see  
The fruits of her disdain, his amity,  
But hasted home, by fond suspicion led;  
(So Arethusa from Alphaeus fled)  
Till to her chamber come, she unawares,  
(Beginning now to be perplexed with cares)  
Looked from a window, from a window spied  
Her fair Arcadius dead, even than she cried.  
Her nimble feet had not such power to bear  
Her half so fast away●… as now her fear  
Returns her to him, ready to complain  
Upon her fate, her tender eyes do strain  
Balm to bedew his cheeks, till a sweet kiss,  
(It seems beloved better than that bliss  
The heaven's bestowed) recalled his sleepy eyes,  
Who opening first, straight shut again and lies  
Closed in her arms, as if nought more could grace him,  
With greater joys, than when her arms embrace him:  
At length remembrance (Ushered by a groan)  
Proclaimed his life; and am I left alone?  
He said, than oped his eyes, whose fixed sight  
Not yet from deaths embracings free, did light  
Upon her face, about his voice to raise,  
Soft kisses stop his speech, those past he says,  
Ye Gods, whose too too hasty shafts have struck  
Beguiling joys into my eyes, and took  
My heavy soul from that thrice blessed place  
Where Sepha dwells, who must Elysium grace,  
What yields this heaven? O would I still might live,  
Her presence yields more joys than heaven can give;  
Invest me with all pleasures that you please  
In heaven to have, with Canticles of ease  
That follow pious souls, they nought will yield  
To me but grief; while o'er th' Elysian field,  
And gloomy shades, continual steps I take  
For her safe wastage o'er the Stygian lake.  
These words he spoke, taking her face for Heaven,  
(In whom the Powers, all powerful grace had given)  
Where still he thought he was, while Sepha grieved,  
With cordial water from her eyes, revived  
His not yet living sense, with greedy eyes  
He views her face, who with this speech replies.  
To me 'tis strange, that you (within whose breast  
Such rare undaunted strength and wit doth rest)  
Through foolish grief should yield your sacred soul  
To Charon's boat, who shall your death condole  
So slightly caused? shall I? believe me no,  
I'll rather seek some noble means to show  
How much you strive with faint tormenting mind  
To raise that heart wherein you lie enshrine.  
Should men despair for once or twice refusal,  
Few men would speed, for to our Sex 'tis usual;  
And often, words outstep the careless lip,  
Which passed, repent that e'er they let them slip.  
Now let this message in thy bosom light  
Arcadius, thou art the sole delight  
Of this my wretched life, for thee I live,  
To live with thee, to thee my love I give.  
Preserve it then so worthy to be loved,  
That of thee always I may be beloved:  
Let no lascivious thought pollute the same,  
Which may increase a scandal to my name,  
But with unstained desires let me be led  
By Hymen's rites unspotted to thy bed.  
Have you not heard young lambs with wailing cries  
Lament their dams departure? who still lies  
Under the sheerers hands? with discontent  
Thinking them dead, their sudden death lament?  
While they to hinder the bemoaning notes  
Get up, and pay their ransom with their coats.  
Even so Arcadius with attentive●… care,  
Observed each word her heavenly lips did spare,  
Still fearing lest some various conclusion,  
Should draw his life to sable night's confusion.  
But when he heard the full, Ladies I know  
You can conceive what streams of joy did slow  
In his still honoured breast, he nimbly rose,  
Conjured the Air to keep her message close  
From babbling echoes, to herself he vows  
An amrous kiss, and she his kiss allows.  
He craved remission for his faulty words,  
Now asked, and straight remission she affords,  
And binds him to the limits of unstained  
Desire, and with her golden tresses chained  
His heart from all deceit, with such pure grace,  
As aught in every lover to have place;  
To Talmos she (proud of her prize) him led,  
(For know fair Sepha's parents both were dead)  
Where entertained with many royal sips  
He drunk full bowls of Nectar from her lips.  
Time hasty to produce the marriage day  
Of these impatient lovers, hied his way;  
And Sepha after many sweet embraces,  
Fraught with conceit, and stuffed with interlaces  
Of their ensuing pleasure, did permit  
Arcadius' departure, who unfit  
For any service, but the winged God,  
To Arathea went, and as he rode,  
Oft blamed orehasty time their joy t'undo,  
But praised him for the sports that should ensue.  
Now was it when the fraction of the day  
From sable night had made Aurora way,  
When 
a Epimenides.  I, ambiguous of succeeding fate,  
Forsook my native country for the hate  
'Gainst me conceived, me 
a Crect.  Minos' Country bred  
Whose hundred Cities with amazement led  
Each eye to view their pride; My Father old,  
And I a pretty stripling, did uphold  
The staff of his declining age, with care  
I cherished him, and did the burden bear  
Of his domestic ployments, now it was,  
(When all his business through my hands did pass)  
That once he sent me to attend the sheep,  
Where Woods sweet chanters summoned me to sleep:  
Within a Cave of Par●…an stone composed,  
I laid me down, I laid me down, and closed  
My duskish eyes, sure some enchantments kept  
The same with magic spells, for there I slept  
Whole seventeen years away; awaked at last,  
I got me up, and to my home did haste,  
Not knowing so much time away was fled,  
I called my friends, but ●…o, my friends were dead.  
This known I left 
b Crect.  Minoia, and spent  
My days in Rome, not caring where I went,  
Nor what I did; nor there I long remained,  
Cause more mishap was to my life ordained:  

c A gate in Rome.  Mugiona stands pointing to a way  
Called 
d A high way from Rome to Campania.  Appia, through which my journey lay;  
Nor many days were spent before I came  
Unto that Town which 
e A town in Campania.  Sora hath to name;  
And there a while I stayed, a while I strove  
To kill those griefs, which never ceased to move  
A desperate end, for that unwisht mischance  
Still gnawing on my soul, about t'advance  
My sword towards my end, o stay a while  
A voice bespoke, let not thy wrath beguile  
Thee of succeeding joys; amazed I stood,  
Not knowing why to save, or spill my blood.  
My eyes could show me nothing, but my ears  
Granted a convoy for the sobbed-forth tears  
Of a distressed Lady, what mishap  
Hath Fortune more, said she, than to entrap  
Our joys, and cut them off? the voice did guide  
Me to a little grove, wherein I spied  
A wretched Lady with torn hair discover,  
(O'er the dead corpse of her beloved lover)  
Th'irreparable loss, and hateful breath,  
She did sustain through his untimely death.  
Aghast she trembled, and with liquid eyes,  
Sent with her lover's soul into the skies,  
Prays that her end may with his end appear,  
Or here to have him, or to have him there.  
A while I stood, either with fear o'regon,  
Or else with grief not able to go on,  
Till she with sword tuged from his wounded breast,  
Made passage for her souls eternal rest.  
I hied me to her, but my steps were lost,  
The wound was given; saith she, since we are crost●…  
Of Terrene pleasures, and those joys do miss,  
Our souls shall wed in heavens' eternal bliss.  
I strived to stop her blood, but she denied  
That any favour should to her betide,  
Since she was crossed in all designs, and said,  
If the entreaties of a dying maid,  
Sir Knight may move you, grant this last request,  
With your own sword give period to the rest  
Of him who did my Delithason slay,  
O'er yond ambitious hill he took his way.  
I vowed their death's revenge, withal desired,  
Since she would die, before her life expired  
Its glorious date, t'acquaint my pitying ears  
With her sad story, while whole shours of tears  
Embalm the body dead; alas said she,  
You cause me to renew the grief must be  
My passport to his foul, then faintly raised  
Her weary head: For ever be ye praised  
(Ye powers) that grant me liberty t'unfold  
Our tragic ends, and then this story told.   

The Story of Delithason and Verista.  
Not far remote there are four little lands,  
Ruled by that 
a Neptune.  God, who girts them with his hands;  

b Islands about Campania.  Statinae called, in these my Father dwelled,  
Whose always scraping, but ne'er filled hand felt  
A mean of fortune's good, (whether by Fate,  
Or fore-ordained to expire the date  
Of my distressed life) to me●…t's unknown,  
But wealth (with which those Isles have ever flown)  
Heaped to his hands a still increasing crowd  
Of gilded pills, those riches made him proud.  
Amongst the other fortunes that he had,  
(O whether shall I term it good or bad)  
The heaven's assigned him me, Verista named,  
Who yet but young, a false report had famed  
Rare beauty of me; this, o this declared,  
Drawed many Princes that the same had heard,  
To try the judgement of their eyes, which fame  
By some confirmed, this Delithason came,  
(Not like a Prince, as like a Prince he might,  
Because he was a Prince) but like a Knight  
With Sword and Lance, but first I'd have you know  
My Father amongst many had a foe  
Of giant's race, whose heart enured to wrong,  
To rapes, and base oppressions had long  
Applied his strength, and now to torture more  
My father's breast that life might give him o'er,  
This quarrel picked, he came and did demand  
Me for his wife, and cause we did withstand  
His wish, with kindled rage from Pluto's Cell,  
He shakes his dangling locks, and down to Hell  
A journey takes, 
a A Fury of Hell.  Erinys he implored,  
And all the Furies which he there adored,  
T'assist his new found plot, nor yet in vain  
They add their help, with fire they rent in twain  
A Town my Father owned, the dwellers there  
Afraid of death, t'abolish quite their fear,  
Plastred the walls with brains, their limbs bestrewed  
The blushing streets with streams of blood bedewed.  
To this he adds a mischief worse, and throws  
Blasphemous oaths, on which he did repose,  
Up to 
b Jupiter of Saturn and 〈◊〉  Saturnus son, 
c The Altars.  the sacred stones,  
On which the people laid oblations,  
He hurls about the Temple, from the posts  
The gold he tears, and in his mischief boasts.  
By this my brother, guided by the cries  
Of conquered sounds, came staring in, and spies  
The honours of celestial Gods defaced,  
A sling he had, and from that sling did cast  
The over hasty stone, and though he well  
Could use his sling, yet did his art excel  
In managing his sword, now heaved aloft,  
Threatening the giant's death, said he, how oft  
Shall I be vexed with too too partial eye  
Of thy outrage? perish with this and die.  
His speech scarce closed, 
d the giant.  Marfilos smeared with blood,  
A colebrand snatched which. by the altar stood,  
And sends it to my brother, 'twas espied  
By Delithason this, about to slide  
Along the Air, with Lance he stopped his hand,  
And sent his soul to that infernal land,  
Where ghosts with hideous cries endure the right  
Of their deserts, clothed in eternal night.  
Thus Delithason by the clamours called,  
And by the giant's death the same appalled;  
Restored to every man his own, the rather  
To get (the seldom got) love of my Father;  
Who nothing thankful for so great a favour,  
Gave thanks indeed; but with so rude behaviour,  
That nought was heard but sighs and piteous moan,  
How to regain the harm to him was done.  
I must said said he, omit the charge I used  
In keeping house, by which I have abused  
My quite-consumed stock; I must omit  
The courteous entertainment that is fit  
For worthy guess, and so to end the strife  
Of sleeping age, with a retired life;  
To this the Prince, (whose ever piety  
Still lent discourteous acts a noble eye)  
Says, aged Father your declining head  
Should scorn to be to base Rebellion led  
Against the laws of Hospitality;  
Decrepit age should on the good rely  
Which she hath done, not on her present wealth,  
The soul's decay, opposer to her health.  
O whither shall I turn? assist me now  
Ye ever helping Powers, let not a vow  
So firmly made before your holy fires,  
So easily be infringed; but who aspires  
To mount the chariot where the glorious Sun  
The orb surveys, with pride shall be undone.  
And shall I silent die? Shall this exile  
From hopes, the pure bond of my love defile?  
Shall my desired desires with horrid sound  
Of a faint heart increase m'increasing wound?  
No, Love must fear no harm, he is not fit  
T'enjoy Loves fruits, that hath not firmly knit  
A resolution to his hopes, and tied  
Himself, though oft, yet ne'er to be denied.  
Father, the wings of ever warbling fame  
Exempt alone, chattered the glorious name  
Of your Verista's beauty, 'twas my chance,  
When every echo did the same advance  
In lofty tunes, to hap into your fight,  
And being greedy of so great a sight,  
Gave period to all hopes of other beauty,  
And did besiege her heart, 'tis now her duty  
My pleasure to obey, for Hymen's lights  
Have linked our hearts, with honour of those rites  
To Lovers due, be willing then to it  
Since Fate hath stopped all means the bond t'unknit.  
But if you will not, if you will persever  
In hatred to those Princes, that endeavour  
To bless their happy lives in blessing her;  
I say again, if still you will prefer  
Your will before all reason without reason,  
As hitherto you have done, there's a Season  
Called quiu'ring winter, with his milky bride,  
Will freeze your honour, and abate your pride.  
Imperial I, in fair Zephir sit,  
Whom wealthy Caria bounds, and brags of it,  
There slowes that paltry gold so much I hate,  
I think the more t'impare my quiet state.  
Luxurious brat, and enemy to wealth,  
My Father said, th''ve got the Crown by stealth,  
With it Verista's love, and dost thou think  
My Daughter shall of that stolen honour drink?  
First let my hands imbrue their wrinkled skin  
In her false breast, first let the spoil begin  
Upon my offspring, can thy boasts assure her?  
Or the bare title of a Crown procure her  
Contented wealth? Say, can so great a name,  
As Queen of Caria wipe away the blame  
Of disobedience? or release the oath  
Of duty? or of zealous care? or both?  
Which she (when subject to my tender rods,)  
Made in the presence of the better Gods?  
Here Delithason stayed his speech, too late,  
He said, you vent your ne'er consumed hate.  
The Gods observe your deeds, and though a while  
They slack their vengeance, 'tis but to beguile  
The Offenders with false hopes; so said, he turned  
His head about, and on the Altar burned  
Prepared Incense, straight the Altar broke  
In twain, and after a fierce thunderclap,  
Sweet music breathed, in which a Chanter cried,  
Thy time's expired, and thou art deified.  
Amazed the people stand, nor yet to whom,  
They can conceive this prophecy should come;  
No●… I alas, no, nor my feeble heart,  
Forethought of this, of this untimely dart,  
For so it happed, 
a The giant.  Marfilos had a son,  
(From a corrupted spring ill waters run)  
Who (wicked) at his father's death repining,  
Just as the Sun was to his bed declining,  
Observed when I and Delithason hied  
Towards his Zephir, (for being denied  
My father's Blessing, privily we got  
Away, when careless he observed not)  
And passing through this wood, this Bloody wood  
(A closet for those that delight in Blood)  
The giant's son a twinded javelin cast,  
And made this wound you see, that don, in haste  
Knowing his dart this spotless heart had sped,  
Unto his home, his father's den he fled:  
About to tell the rest she stopped, and died,  
When I by virtue of my promise tied,  
After I had reposed them in one urn,  
Towards Statinae did my voyage turn,  
And (lest too long I should delay the joy,  
Hasty Arcadius wishes to enjoy)  
Stuffed up with Ire, I did not long pursue  
His steps, before at him I had a view.  
Ho! villain stay, I cried, receive the meed,  
The Gods allot thee for thy wicked deed,  
Stay murderer, thy haste shall not prefer,  
Injustice before right, stay murderer,  
While yet I spoke, my Lance his shoulders caught,  
My Sword beguiled him of his head, and taught  
This lesson to the world, th'alseeing Eye,  
Let's not apparent wrongs unpunished die.  
My vow dissolved, I bent my course again  
Towards 
a A Town in Campania.  ●…b●…lla, whose high walls disdain  
A rival in their pride, there is a way  
That leads thereto, by which a meadow lay,  
In it I saw a Knight of Silver hew,  
With sword, hold a stout Combat against two  
Of fiery looks, I hied me to the sight,  
Either by force or Treaty to unite  
Their various minds, but what can words prevail,  
Where bloody resolutions do assail  
A spotless mind? no time they would admit,  
Through hasty fight, t'inquire the cause of it.  
A while I viewed the combat, till the Knight  
In silver armour on the neck did light  
Of one of th' adverse side, who unacquainted  
With such rough compliments, fell down and fainted.  
So done, he said, by all the Powers that dwell  
In lofty thrones, thy valour doth excel  
Thy neighbouring Princes, but thy unjust cause,  
Repugn against the splendour, and the laws  
Of martial discipline, content thee then  
With this, thou art the happiest of men  
In that th' haste scaped revenge to traitors due,  
Do other matters cause thee to pursue  
This spite, besides thy false suspect? or can  
Thy ever-stained affection (which began  
And ends with lust, not love) enchant thy sense  
So far with stupid blindness to commence  
Hatred for this? withdraw thyself and yield  
To me thy life, thy weapon, and the field.  
So shall my arms with amity embrace  
Thy neck; where else 'twill show thee thy disgrace.  
No sooner said, but we might hear the sound  
Of trampling horses beat the tender ground  
For swifter speed now to us seen, and now  
Dismount their Steeds, and to the adverse bow,  
Pardon said they (great Prince) that our neglect  
Infringed the Laws of our endeared respect.  
But when they saw his armour stained, and viewed,  
His dead companion with blood imbrued,  
They reamount the nimble Steeds they rid,  
(For Marble looked not paler than they did)  
And to the silver Knight their anger bent,  
Who with excess of bleeding almost spent,  
Held up his hand to me, to me he said,  
(For they were three) see how I am betrayed  
With these unequal odds, no more you need  
To move me up I said, fear not, proceed  
With your own hands to lacerate in twain  
Their conscious hearts, to me your prayers are vain.  
I am too weak to shelter you from harms,  
Though armed, yet I'm unskilled to use my arms,  
But what I am I'm yours, with that our swords  
We drew, and blows supplied the want of words.  
While he (most noble and most valiant Knight)  
Each blow he took, each blow he did requite  
With treble use, awhile they hold us play,  
Till overcome, their lives did end our fray.  
This done, and all things hist, I thought it good  
To stop the conduits of his flowing blood,  
When mounted on our Steeds, with gentle gate  
Riding toward●… his home, he did relate  
The tragic story thus; I am said he  
Arcadius, and yonder tower you see●…  
Is mine, this Prince whom now we slew,  
Hearing what pure unstained affection grew  
'Tween me, and one named Sepha in her heart,  
He came, and did prescribe a double part:  
On this our quarrel grew, and what success  
In it he had, your valour will express.  
Not I, said I, 'twas you your conquering hand,  
Your cause, your sword, your strength that did withstand  
Their greedy hopes, the Gods do close their eyes  
From impious vassals, and exclude their cries.  
And since you please t'entitle me your friend,  
O let my willing service you attend,  
And what you think will magnify your name,  
Withal conceive me ready for the same.  
'Twas Summer then, and having cured his wounds  
Called out by th' noise of his pursuing hounds,  
We galloped o'er the plains, now by a Wood  
Our way we took, where purple statues stood,  
O bless me here he cried, and softly said,  
Enshrine in these four pleasant Nymphs are laid.  
Then by a Tower, in this said he remains  
The fairest flower, the pride of all the plains,  
'Tis Sepha's house, the Goddess of my heart,  
In whose fair cheeks, Love with his golden dart  
Sits sporting, dashed with a Vermilion dye,  
theyare like the blush came from Endymion's eye,  
When twin-born Cynthia to suffice her will,  
Had courted him on sleepy La●…mos hill.  
No sooner said, but Sepha said 'tis true,  
If liked of you, for Sepha lives by you,  
And spying me she blushed, lovers do so,  
For conscious minds appear by th'outward show;  
All salutations past, she led us in,  
Where first our root of ruin did begin:  
For such firm bonds of constant amity,  
Had linked Arcadius loyal heart to me,  
(Which by our outward actions was not hid,  
For never two loved better than we did)  
That she perceiving how he stood inclined,  
The more to please and gratulate his mind,  
Used me with courteous terms, he discontent,  
(Suspicion is a trial eminent  
Of true affection) thought some newborn love  
'Twards me increased, her tender heart did move  
As Helen did to Paris, took occasion,  
T' assist her loyal love with this persuasion;  
For sitting in a pleasant bower which hung  
With various flowers he took a Lute and sung.   

Seeest not my love with what a grace?  
The Spring resembles thy sweet face?  
Here let us sit, and in these bowers,  
Receive the odours of the flowers,  
For Flora by thy beauty wood,  
conspires thy good.   

See how she sends her fragrant sweet,  
And doth this homage to thy feet,  
Bending so low her stooping head,  
To kiss the ground where thou dost tread,  
And all her flowers proudly meet,  
to kiss thy feet.   

Then let us walk my dearest love,  
And on this carpet strictly prove  
Each others vow, from thy request  
No other love invades my breast.  
For how can I contemn that fire  
which Gods admire?   

To crop that Rose why dost thou seek,  
When there's a purer in thy cheek?  
Like coral held in thy fair hands,  
Or blood and milk that mingled stands;  
To whom the Powers all grace have given.  
a type of Heaven.   

Yond lily stooping 'twards this place,  
Is a pale shadow for thy face,  
Under which veil doth seem to rush;  
Modest Endymion's ruddy blush.  
A blush indeed, more pure and fair  
than lilies are.   

Glance on those flowers thy radiant eyes,  
Through which clear beams they'll sympathize  
Reflective love, to make them far  
More glorious than th' Hesperian star,  
For every swain amazed lies,  
and gazing dies.   

See how these ●…illy flowers twine,  
With s●…eet embracings, and combine,  
Striving with curious looms to set  
Their pale and red into a net,  
To show how pure desire doth rest  
for ever blessed.   

Why wilt thou then unconstant be?  
T'infringe the laws of amity?  
And so much disrespect my heart?  
To derogate from what thou art?  
When in harmonious love there is  
Elysian bliss.   

Sepha at this was pleased, displeased was he  
To see her smile; leave off thy jealousy  
●…rcadius she said, I am possessed  
With that firm love, which ne'er shall leave my breast.  
First shall the Sun forget his course to fly,  
And Pindus' hills shall soar about the sky.  
First shall the Roman Eagles lose their wings,  
And music murmur music without strings.  
First shall the Sea-born goddess leave the fan  
Of ardent love, and turn precisian:  
And fearful Hares pursue the thundering cry  
Of Cretan Hounds, and Ovid's memory die,  
Ere I, who to thee do my soul betrothe,  
Forsake my word, or falsify my oath.  
So said, she hangs her lip, and lours her head,  
(Lovers are oft ashamed of what they said) ●…  
While he with hymns of joy the debt did pay  
Of upright love, and named the wedding day.  
Which come, and all things ready, Sepha dressed  
Her hair, her coats were blue, upon her breast  
She wore a Stone of curious art composed,  
Wherein two naked lovers were enclosed;  
Both striving, till the maid who did resist,  
Grew weak, and then he used her as he list.  
Now Ladies, know; a Prince there was whom fame  
Had taken captive with fair Sepha's name,  
Who hearing of the wedding day, wherein  
Their hands should be linked, as their hearts had been;  
And hearing of the weakness of the guard,  
That should conduct them to the Church, prepared  
To rob us of her; as you pass the plain,  
There is a pretty hillock that would fain  
Be called a hill, behind this hill they hide  
Themselves, their weapons, and do there reside.  
Now we in whom no thought of treachery  
Had told us of mishap, with jollity  
Hied to the temple, there, o there the chance  
Of base conspiring mischief did advance  
Itself, dejected us, a horrid voice  
Of threatning people sent a hideous noise  
Unto our ears, now to our eyes their arms  
With glittering shields foretell our following harms.  
Unweaponed we, for battles are refused  
On wedding days, and other weapons used,  
So that the easier they our necks did bend  
Unto their yoke, now had they took my friend  
The young Arcadius and his lovely bride,  
The only prize they waited for, and hied  
Them on their way, born by the heat of love  
'Twards th'one, 'twards th'other hate their speed did move,  
When I (O ne'er till then unfortunate)  
Saw Tyranny and malice at debate,  
Who first should steal away the spotless life  
Of my Arcadius, at last a knife,  
His unstained bosom pierced, who dying cried,  
Let Sepha live, and I am satisfied.  
You ravishers said I of others blood,  
By this discern if traitor's ends are good,  
And with a sword snatched from another's arm,  
Cleft one, and said be sharer in his harm;  
With that a second, and a third I slew,  
And so a fourth, till such a tumult grew,  
That after divers blows away they fled,  
And left me, as they well might think, for dead.  
Mean while Campanian Sepha took her flight  
Into a Wood, born there by horrid fright.  
Where long she could not stay, by careful heed  
Drawn forth, to know how her known love did speed,  
And now she finds, what ne'er she wished to find,  
With his dear blood the blushing flowers lined;  
She says not much, lest helpless words should stay  
Her soul too long, but kneeling down doth pray,  
Then took the knife by his own blood made foul,  
And falling down upon't advanced her soul.  
Awaked from out my sound, I saw how Fate  
Had played the wanton, and expired their date:  
I took their bodies and them both did burn,  
I put them both together in one urn;  
straight both their ashes, Male and Female grew,  
And from the same admired phoenix flew;  
From whence I prophesy it shall revive  
By death, for 'tis their fame shall keep't alive,  
Which growing old towards the Sun shall fly,  
And till the Heavens dissolve shall never die.   

Here Epimenides his story ceased,  
And bending down his panting bosom dies:  
Whose death the Ladies former griefs increased,  
They sent his soul to Elysium with their cries,  
Upon whose shrine they wrote his death, to show  
From Heaven he came, to Heaven he needs must go.   
FINIS.    

Hinc Lachrimae, OR THE author TO Aurora:  

1  
WHy should my pen aspire so high a strain,  
A verse to guide, to guide a verse unfit?  
Are they the fittest voices to complain?  
Admit they be, they're for a riper wit;  
Yet you who these unpolished lines shall read,  
Deride them not, they from distraction came,  
Let that suffice, my love alone shall plead  
For their defect, and shall excuse the same,  
Excuse the same, for what from love doth spring,  
To lovers only resolution bring.   

2  
Caelums fair daughter hath bereft my heart  
Of those sweet hopes to lovers only due,  
Unwilling she those pleasures to impart,  
Lest too much joy should make me cease to rue,  
Lest her fair eyes should work that gracious hap,  
Which she would not permit I should enjoy,  
While I lie lulled in Fates unconstant lap,  
With grief converse, and still with sorrow toy:  
For such a gentle pain she doth me send,  
As if she would not wish my life, nor end.   

3  
Yet such it is that I will not exchange  
My life with those whom Fortune kind entreats,  
And since it is her arrow that doth range  
My tender heart, I kiss the rod that beats.  
I laugh at Cupid, who is overjoyed  
With fond conceit, that he hath wrought this fire,  
But let him be with self-conceit destroyed,  
'Twas not his power, 'twas my own desire,  
Though Venus hood-winked son doth bear the name,  
Azile's virtue 'twas did me inflame.   

4  
'Twas thee asylum, of whose loves I sang,  
'Tween thee and me among the gentle Goths,  
Something it was when all the valleys rang  
Too true, the breach of thy beplighted oaths.  
I little thought my willing warbling quill,  
With her shrill notes did miss to sing the truth,  
But now I find through too dear gotten skill,  
Thou art despiser of my blooming youth,  
What there I said, how much thy soul relied  
Upon thy faith, these Poems say I lied.   

5  
Else why should I complain of this mischance,  
Had it not been contrary to thy vows?  
With tears thou mad'st them, and what furtherance,  
Of si●●●es were more, heavens' ruler only knows.  
Heaven knows my faith, how I have loyal been,  
And have not broke the smallest string of love.  
To see my constancy will augment thy sin,  
How loyal I, how wavering thou dost prove,  
But 'twas thy will, that I thy favour mist,  
I'm thine, and thou Mayst use me as thou list.   

6  
Even as thou list asylum, I'll rejoice,  
And tremble at thy eyes when ere they move;  
Command thy will, I will obey thy voice,  
Unless thou bidst me cease to owe thee love.  
There pardon me dear love, for such a root  
It hath obtained in my triangle heart,  
That since thou first didst thereon place thy foot,  
The pain increased, and still I feel the smart;  
No pain at all, since it from thee ensues,  
And Love, thou Mayst command them as thy dues●…   

7  
Even as thy dues, and what I can procure,  
More from my heart, to thee shall be presented,  
Yet hadst thou but the tenth part I endure,  
I'm sure thy last neglect should be repented;  
Thou wouldst be sorry that I have misspent  
My time in sighs, for prayers only free,  
But prayers are killed through too much discontent,  
For he that loves can never zealous be.  
'tis thee alone must be my gracious Saint,  
'Gainst thee, and to thee only's my complaint.   

8  
How oft have I been subject of thy scorn?  
How often killed by thy impetuous eyes?  
How oft have I the warlike Ensign born  
Of thy fierce heart, enured to cruelty?  
So oft hast thou, after the tide was past,  
Of disrespect, my heavy soul reprieved  
From that dejected state, so oft thou hast,  
Witnessed with vows, if vows may be believed,  
O that I could thy former love descry,  
To reassume thy late humanity.   

9  
Wouldst thou but think with what entire delight  
My soul was carried to those joys, and whither,  
Wouldst thou but think how strong we did unite  
Into one bond our mutual loves together,  
Wouldst thou but reconcile thy wandering sense,  
And cease t'afflict with thy impartial eyes;  
Wouldst thou but hear the prayer which I commence,  
One shower might cherish yet the root which dies.  
But thou art wise, and canst thy worth refine,  
Yet use me gently, 'cause thou know'st I'm thine.   

10  
What though thy birth require a higher place,  
Than my low heart is able to bestow?  
Admit it do, yet count it no disgrace,  
'Tis my humility that makes me low,  
And since I have aspired so high a favour,  
Which once I had, but now I can't obtain,  
I'll spend my days, even with as sad behaviour,  
And study most, how most I may complain.  
O that my plaints would mollify thy heart,  
And once thou wouldst give period to my smart.   

11  
What though thy riches ask as high a fortune?  
And with thy birth doth bear an equal sway?  
O were that all, I know I might importune  
A little help, for riches will decay.  
Even as thy wealth, so will thy beauty fade,  
And then thou wilt repent thee of my wrong,  
A secret sorrow shall thy breast invade,  
Thy heart shall be as faulty as thy tongue,  
They both shall vex, and this shall be the trial,  
One gave consent, the other gave denial.   

12  
When tho●… shalt be of all thy youth deprived,  
And shalt with ages wrinkled rows be clad;  
When thou shalt sit and think how much I strived  
Thy love to gain, and what reward I had;  
When thy deceitful promises shall call  
Thee to the bar, and there arraign thy thoughts,  
When thou with heavy eyes shalt summon all  
The harms which thy unkindness in me wrought,  
When thou shalt hear of my distracted mind,  
Thou wilt repent thee that thou wast unkind.   

13  
And that thou Mayst remember thy disdain,  
Even these I wrote, that thou mayst read the same,  
And there shalt find what just cause to complain  
From thee I had, by thy unkindness came;  
That so thou Mayst be sorry for my harm,  
And wet thy eyes; for once I know you loved me;  
O let that love be to thy heart a charm,  
But since nor prayers, nor vows, nor tears have moved thee,  
Even these I wrote to show to future years,  
How much asylum thou hast scorned my tears.   

14  
How much asylum thou hast scorned my tears,  
And hast detained that which thou know'st is mine,  
Thy heart is his, even to whose heart he fears  
No hopes will come, and therefore doth repine  
Even to his death, for which way can he choose  
When the remembrance of thy faith shall creep  
Before his eyes, and therein shall infuse  
A thousand tears, how can he choose but weep?  
O happy yet, wouldst thou this discontent  
But call to mind, and in that mind repent.   

15  
The time will come, when thy beloved face  
Shall lose the spring, with which it now is clad,  
When thou art old, thou in some secret place●…  
Wilt sit, and think of all the wrongs I had,  
Then wilt thou read these my unpolished plaints,  
The Chronicles of my unpitied cries,  
When thou art old, perhaps thy heart shall faint  
For shame, and let one tear forsake thy eyes;  
I know thou wilt, and e'er thy Sun expire  
His glorious date, thou wilt recall thy ire.   

16  
Though now thy eyes are carried from the wounds  
Thy eyes did give, when first my eyes beheld them,  
Though now thy ears deny to hear the sounds  
O●… my just plaints, and therefore hast expelled them,  
Yet once before thy Soul shall take her way  
Towards those fields, the fair Elysian rest,  
Thou wilt be greedy of an hours stay,  
To tell the world, how thou hast me oppressed.  
I know thou wilt, and though a while the shade  
Obscure the Sun, at last the cloud will fade.   

17  
Tell me how oft thou hast with serious voice,  
Vowed for thy love no harm I should endure?  
Tell me if erst thou didst not like thy choice,  
And with thy vows didst crown our nuptials sure?  
Tell me if once upon those blessed Stairs,  
T●● Stairs my thought that guided unto Heaven,  
When I surprised by thee unawares,  
Had there thy love's assurance fully given,  
Or if thou wilt not tell, yet say in this,  
If I have spoke●… or wrote a word amiss.   

18  
Mistake me not, my pen was ne'er defiled,  
With any stain, that may thy honour stain,  
From all lascivious thoughts I am exiled,  
So shall my pen immodest sense refrain;  
Thou art as free, as pure from any blot,  
And therefore shalt with Lotus crown thy brows,  
If ever thou didst sin, I knew it not,  
Excepting this the fraction of thy vows,  
I vow by Heaven and all the powers therein,  
Excepting this, I never knew thee sin.   

19  
Ye slowry Meads where I do use to sing,  
And with complaining notes do often fill ye,  
Ye purling streams, where I with quau'ring string,  
Make music, tell the praise of my asylum,  
Ye shady Groves and melancholy places,  
Where oft I do retire to sigh my wrongs,  
Ye lofty hills that oft hear my disgraces,  
To whom I chatter forth my heavy songs,  
Let these persuasions now your voices move,  
Say if I ever spoke against my love.   

20  
When I with lilies do adorn my head.  
And dress my face by pleasant silver brook,  
When I my snowy flock do gently lead,  
And guide their steps with willing shepherd's hook,  
When I with Daffadill's do garlands make,  
And therewith have my back and arms enshrined,  
When I to oaten pipe do me betake,  
To tell of my asylum, and her mind,  
When I so oft with flowers my hands have dressed,  
What was it but to please asylum best?   

21  
The firstlings of my flock to her I gave,  
Twice happy flock to send your presents thither,  
Thrice happy flock, for she the last shall have,  
The last was hers, I sent them both together.  
She took them both, and with a gentle eye,  
(Where courtesy, and grace together lay,  
As loath to rob, yet loather to deny)  
She'wd on the hills her willingness to stay,  
Blessed be the time when first her love I moved,  
Too silly Shepherd so to be beloved.   

22  
Too silly Shepherd, and unworthy too,  
That durst presume that fair fruit to attempt,  
But since entire affection made me woo,  
O judge me not of modesty exempt,  
For though I did aspire so high a task,  
Yet best it is, and best to be commended,  
I easily can maintainted, no help I ask,  
Let love and honour join, dispute is ended;  
I'll mount the highest steps that honour calls,  
He falls no lower than the ground that falls.  
Qui jacet i●…●…err●…m, non habet unde cad●…t:   

23  
And that the easier I may climb the same,  
I'll build a ladder of heroic wood,  
Each step embellished in the purest frame,  
Of coral born in the Tyrraean flood,  
That when my wishes have attained their will,  
And all my thoughts have perfected my art,  
That when my cares have rested on a hill,  
The only rock of my repining heart,  
None may condemn me, for I did aspire  
To virtue clad in constant loves attire.  Sidne●….  

24  
Yet many will conjecture much amiss,  
Because my love so slowly is requited,  
Each spiteful satire will surmise by this,  
Thou hat'st me cause my pains have thee delighted;  
But let them please themselves with thought thereof,  
And with their wits ascribe their own applause,  
I free from anger at their harms will laugh,  
For some vex most when none will give them cause,  
That when thou seest how loyal I am thine,  
Thou mayst conceive the greatest harm is mine.   

25  
The Morning blush is like asylum made,  
Azile's cheeks are like the morning blush,  
If fair Aurora please to be the shade,  
Why should Az●…le scorn to be the bush?  
Thou art that bush asylum under whom,  
My buskin Muse sings free from country strife,  
Thou art that Lotus to whose shade I come,  
To sup my milk, and sport away my life,  
That when thou ●…eest my harmless sports excel,  
Thou mayst remember once thou knew'st me well.   

26  
Thou mayst remember once thou knew'st me well,  
And didst not shame t'account me as thy own,  
Then loyal love within thy breast did dwell,  
And faith, but now no faith in thee is known.  
When we in Evenings have the valleys traced,  
And sipped fresh air to close the hasty day,  
When with thy steps thou hast the mountains graced,  
To see how Hes●…er hied him on his way,  
Why wast not careful then to keep thy vow,  
For there thou mad'st me promises enough.   

27  
And then the Spring of my unstained affection,  
With Roses dressed, and lilies sweetly grew,  
Whose ruddy look, gave it a fair complexion,  
Till frowning Winter gave't another hue,  
But stay thou know'st already why I sing,  
And with my heavy verse so gently move thee,  
For that alone I did these sonnets bring,  
That by these plaints thou mayst perceive I love thee,  
For out of nothing, nothing can be brought,  
And that which is, can ne'er be turned to nought.   

28  
How can I smother then my long penned love,  
Almost unknown to thee so long concealed?  
O you that can assist me from above,  
For by your means ●…twas first of all revealed,  
Since when my heart in such sure hope remains,  
That I will not exchange my part in her,  
Not for the purest face the world contains,  
For before all her love I will prefer;  
And know in their fruition I shall want  
Those sweet contents which these complainings grant.   

29  
Twice hath the Sun drenched in Iberian Seas,  
Twice fifty times renewed his fiery Car,  
Since with thy sight thou didst impart some ease,  
And since I spoke to thee ran twice so far,  
But yet thou seest thy still dejected friend,  
Admits no period to the love he owes,  
And though thy absence gives all pleasure's end,  
Yet know thy presence far more grief bestows,  
For this will vex, when one their own shall see,  
And yet not dare thereof the owner be.   

30  
Ay me, when I alone sit and bemoan me,  
Of thy hard heart, and my unjust correction,  
When by myself I sit, and think upon thee,  
With what sure bonds I'm brought into subjection,  
Then, than my heart, grieving to be restrained;  
Beats up a loud alarm, to come to thee,  
If when I think of thee I am so pained,  
What do I then when I thy face do see?  
Such is my pain, if pains may be believed,  
Grieved at thy sight, and at thy absence grieved.   

31  
What though I have transgressed against thy will?  
And run as idle ways as many other?  
I am not minded to pursue them still,  
If thou no more wilt thy affections smother,  
And know asylum that the chiefest cause  
Of all mishaps, sprung first from thy unkindness,  
It is a statute made in Cupid's laws,  
Neglected Lovers spend their days in blindness,  
And so it is, when once deprived the bliss  
Of constant love, we other blessings miss.   

32  
And so run headlong careless of our good,  
Into all danger that the world hath sent,  
But Heaven be praised, that I have this withstood,  
I never knew what carnal action meant;  
For other sins, I know I have a share,  
As deep as any that committed sin,  
And more must have, I yet cannot forbear,  
Such is the state my restless soul lives in,  
Such is my state, unless thou dost relent  
My daily wrong, and then I shall repent.   

33  
If thou misdoubt, as thou mayst well misdoubt,  
Because I'm now so wild, and vain withal,  
That should I speed, my love would quickly out,  
And I unto my old rebates would fall,  
O let the thought thereof no place obtain,  
But banish it, as enemy to good;  
Try me a while before I reap the gain,  
Which so long wished, hath so long been withstood,  
Try me I say, and thou shalt me restore,  
For verjuice sweetened once, will sour no more.   

34  
Alas my love, what love appears in this?  
To omit the cure, which only may procure  
Thy client's ease? guide not thy love amiss,  
Lest thy neglect make thy destruction sure,  
And then my blood 〈◊〉 ●…prinkled on thy coat,  
Will bring a horrid 〈◊〉 unto thy soul,  
I vow by Heaven that all 〈◊〉 world shall know't;  
There's nothing can 〈◊〉 resolve control,  
By Heaven I vow, and this the truth relates,  
Deny again, I'll die before thy gates.   

35  
But stay complaints, return unto your owner,  
And blame her not, she's free from any blame,  
There can no spotted scandal rest upon her,  
'tis your presumption, and it is your shame.  
But say again, although you are unfit  
To kiss her ears, yet you'll take no denial,  
And that you' l not her plighted troth remit,  
But will remit it to a further trial,  
Even to his doom, who will all things destroy,  
And there reward her inhumanity.   

36  
And there reward thy inhumanity  
Unkind asylum, rapt in liquid charms,  
Thou canst not with an unstained Conscience die,  
Unless thou dost give period to my harms.  
Is it thy wealth that makes thee thus refrain me?  
As it is thine, so shall it still be thine.  
Is it thy birth that makes thee thus disdain me?  
O scorn me not, I come of Noble Line,  
For by the Norman Duke our brows were crowned,  
With laurel branches, and our names renowned.   

37  
Cease then t'afflict, and show that heart some ease,  
Which in offences never gave thee none,  
Unless it was in striving best to please,  
Therein indeed it hath been very prone,  
And that thou know'st, there's none doth know so well,  
How my poor love did run in full carrier,  
My daily presence did my passions tell,  
My daily passions in thy presence were.  
O happy time when thy sweet presence gave it,  
But now I have most need I cannot have it.   

38  
Believe asylum, when of thee I think,  
As such sweet thoughts are in me very rife,  
I'm ready of prepared bane to drink,  
Or any poison that will end my Life;  
And still because, my still consuming heart,  
Enjoys no rest, wished rest I never have,  
But of turmoils and troubles I have part,  
But 'tis not trouble that a Soul must save,  
A sweet content doth lead the way from wrath,  
He safest lives that quiet conscience hath.   

39  
But I have none, nor never must have any,  
Unless thy eyes do shine upon my face,  
Amongst thy noble virtues which are many,  
O let this favour thy poor Servant grace;  
Since thou disdainest to bestow thy heart  
On me so far dejected, so unworthy,  
Tell me what cause it is, and 'twill impart,  
Ease to those daily pains I suffer for thee;  
So shall my soul be quiet, so my pain  
Released, and I shall hear thee speak again.   

40  
And that's a favour far beyond desert,  
But not beyond desire I have to love thee.  
Dost thou desire? I'll rip my wounded heart,  
And show thee that which there perhaps may move thee;  
O let me find access unto thy breast,  
And there receive my almost wearied soul,  
Her wings are weary, and implore some rest,  
Her wearied wings their slippery fate condole;  
And scorn me not that I so much have sought thee,  
For know asylum I have dearly bought thee.   

41  
For know asylum I have dearly paid  
For thee, if of thee I am e'er possessed,  
Possess me then with thy prevailing aid,  
And aid to that shore that must make me blessed,  
There shall I sing enconiums to thy praise,  
And praise the lustre of thy noble Spirit,  
When ravished by those Epithalm●…an lays  
Of Nymphs, thou shalt their Nymph-like grace inherit,  
And Hyme●… in a saffron veil shall come,  
O'er a fair field bestrewed with Margerum.   

42  
There shall the scores of either love be read,  
And there my pains in which thou hast delighted,  
There shall my love for her offences plead,  
There shall my vows be paid, my pains requited,  
And those that do except against my age,  
Harpocrates to silence shall conjure,  
A vulture shall his starved desire assuage,  
Upon their hearts, cause they my pains procure,  
What though! scarce have twice ten winters told,  
As much as is in man, in me behold.   

43  
As much as is in man in me should be,  
But that thou hast bereft me of my heart,  
I want those glozing words of flattery,  
By which some men gain more than by desert,  
I want that wit which ought to parallel  
Thy virtues, and procure deserving bliss,  
I want that strength and vigour to repel,  
Dejected grief, which guides love's wheel amiss,  
I want those means which should all good supplant  
Within my breast, and chiefly thee I want.   

44  
love's coach they say is made of Ebony,  
And drawn by Turtle Doves of Silver hue,  
To show the brightness of pure amity,  
With Turtles yoked, than Turtles what more true?  
Along whose sides the purple silk doth twinned  
The silver Ouches to the golden wheels,  
So outward beauty should a lover bind,  
For who the outward love the inward feels,  
Eye sight confirms, but virtue's motives be,  
'tis not alone thy face I love but thee.   

45  
Thee for thy virtues I alone admire,  
asylum mine, but mine no more thou art,  
Yet canst thou not those raging flames expire  
Of Love, unless thou hast a double heart,  
O double not my pains (my dearest love)  
Nor let the Torments of my soul increase,  
For private envy will all truth reprove,  
That kingdom safest lives that lives in peace,  
How can we then a true concordance find,  
When we two, one, have both a different mind?   

46  
A Poet said, if Cupid be a power,  
Let him possess me now with his desire,  
When suddenly his eyes began to lour,  
And he expired his life in helpless fire,  
And so must I perish within that flame,  
If these will not thy heart to pity bend,  
If still thy slinty heart remains the same,  
I wish that with this line, my life might end;  
And this cmplaint about the earth be hurled,  
Alive to death, but dead unto the world.   

47  
And hear I stay, expecting now the doom,  
And sentence of eternal joy, or grief,  
Which from thy sweet, or fatal lipsmust come,  
For while I live thou of my heart art chief;  
Then show thyself as thou desir'st to be,  
Unstained in all thy ways, in all upright,  
That following days with pure integrity,  
May sweet my sorrows past with some delight;  
And here I rest expecting the regard,  
Of faithful love, and his deserved reward.  Peliander.  
FINIS.   

To the immortal memory of the fairest and most virtuous Lady, the Lady  

HEr tongue hath ceased to speak, which might make dumb  
All tongues, might stay all Pens, all hands benumb;  
Yet must I write, O that it might have been  
While she had lived, and had my verses seen,  
Before sad cries deafed my untuned ears,  
When verses flowed more easily than tears.  
Ah why neglected I to write her praise,  
And paint her virtues in those happy days!  
Then my now trembling hand and dazzled eye,  
Had seldom failed, having the pattern by;  
Or had it erred, or made some strokes amiss,  
(For who can portray virtue as it is?)  
Art might with Nature have maintained her strife,  
By curious lines to imitate true life.  
But now those Pictures want their lively grace,  
As after death none well can draw the face:  
We let our friends pass idly like our time,  
Till they be gone, and then we see our crime,  
And think what worth in them might have been known,  
What duties done, and what affection shown:  
Untimely knowledge, which so dear doth cost,  
And then begins when the thing known is lost;  
Yet this cold love, this envy, this neglect,  
Proclaims us modest, while our due respect  
To goodness is restrained by servile fear,  
Lest to the world, it flattery should appear●…  
As if the present hours deserved no praise:  
But age is past, whose knowledge only stays  
On that weak prop which memory sustains,  
Should be the proper subject of our strains:  
Or as if foolish men ashamed to sing  
Of Violets, and Roses in the Spring,  
Should tarry till the flowers were blown away,  
And till the muse's life and heat decay;  
Then is the fury slacked, the vigour ●…led,  
As here in mine, since it with her was dead:  
Which still may sparkle, but shall flame no more,  
Because no time shall her to us restore:  
Yet may these Sparks, thus kindled with her fame,  
Shine brighter, and live longer than some flame.  
Here expectation urgeth me to tell  
Her high perfections, which the world knew well.  
But they are far beyond my skill t'unfold,  
They were poor virtues if they might be told.  
But thou, who fain wouldst take a general view  
Of timely fruits which in this garden grew,  
On all the virtues in men's actions look,  
Or read their names writ in some moral book;  
And sum the number which thou there shalt find:  
So many lived, and triumphed in her mind.  
Nor dwelled these Graces in a house obscure,  
But in a Palace fair, which might allure  
The wretch, who no respect to virtue bore,  
To love It, for the garments which it wore.  
So that in her the body and the soul  
Contended, which should most adorn the whole.  
O happy soul for such a body meet,  
How are the firm chains of that union sweet,  
dissevered in the twinkling of an eye?  
And we amazed dare ask no reason why,  
But silent think, that God is pleased to show,  
That he hath works, whose ends we cannot know:  
Let us then cease to make a vain request,  
To learn why die the fairest, why the best;  
For all these things, which mortals hold most dear,  
Most slippery are, and yield less joy than fear;  
And being lifted high by men's desire,  
Are more propitious marks for heavenly fire;  
And are laid prostrate with the first assault,  
Because, our love makes their desert their fault.  
Then justice, us to some amends should move  
For this our fruitless, nay our hurtful love;  
We in their Honour, piles of stone erect  
With their dear Names, and worthy praises decked:  
But since those fail, their glories we rehearse,  
In better Marble, everlasting verse,  
By which we gather from consuming hours,  
Some parts of them, though time the rest devours;  
Then if the Muses can forbid to die,  
As we their Priests suppose, why may not I?  
Although the least and hoarsest in the choir,  
Clear beams of blessed immortality inspire  
To keep thy blessed remembrance ever young,  
Still to be freshly in all ages sung:  
Or if my work in this unable be,  
Yet shall it ever live, upheld by thee:  
For thou shalt live, though Poems should decay,  
Since Parents teach their Sons, thy praise to say;  
And to Posterity, from hand to hand  
Convey it with their blessing and their land.  
Thy quiet rest from death, this good derives,  
Instead of one, it gives thee many lives:  
While these lines last, thy shadow dwelleth here,  
Thy fame, itself extendeth every where;  
In heaven our hopes have placed thy better part:  
Thine Image lives, in thy sad husband's heart:  
Who as when he enjoyed thee, he was chief  
In love and comfort, so is he now in grief.    

To his dear Friend Mr. John Emely upon his travels.  
HAve other Nations got that tempting art?  
Or Seas? (O thou the second of my heart)  
To steal thee from us? shall thy presence plant  
Those goods elsewhere, which country thine doth want?  
And chiefly me, who every wind abjure  
That loudly roars, to make thy passage sure,  
As much I blame the calms, for secret fear,  
Though without cause, in all things will appear.  
And now my thinks the Cantabrician●…lood,  
With open jaws grows thirsty for thy blood,  
Which if great ●…aelums offspring doth appall  
The calm I ●…ear sits smiling at thy fall.  
Or if Sicilian Seas thou surrowest o'er,  
Thy danger by Charybdis I deplore,  
And Scilla's rock, whose bloody mouth doth lie  
For thee, if more towards the North you fly.  
If to Eoum, or to Indus arm,  
Paropanisian rocks will do thee harm.  
If on Propontis, or Tanais●…lood,  
Tanai's and Hellespont are stained with blood.  
What pleasure then allures thee to their coast?  
In safest beds pleasure resideth most.  
Nor country can, nor other Nations give  
More sweet content, than where thy Parents live.  
What will it boot to view the snowy hills  
Of Al●…ine high? whose fleecy moisture fills  
The humble dales? or what will it prevail,  
To hear th' exuberance of a foreign tale?  
What joy can it produce to hear the swains,  
Leading their flocks along the Scythian plains,  
T'accord their voices to the slender reeds  
Of Amarillis praise? or what exceeds  
With sweeter pleasure, and more bright doth shine  
In other countries, than it doth in thine?  
Now to Olympian hills thou tak'st thy way,  
Far happier wouldst thou in our valleys stay,  
And see thy country Hero's sports prepare,  
More pleasant than Olympian pleasures are.  
No service we to Nereus' Altar vow,  
Nor dread we Neptune, nor to Neptune bow,  
But free from fear, in blushing mornings walk,  
Through shady groves, to hear woods chanters talk  
Ruddy A●…roras praise, and with free moan,  
To echoes only sigh our loves alone.  
In Summer time we walk the flowery meads,  
Where Flora o'er her spotted Carpet leads  
Our eyes, and gluts us with discoloured shows  
Of Flowers, which on her amorous bosom grows.  
Then Zephyrus with fair Nepenthe scents,  
Comes stealing o'er the flowers, and present●…  
Sweets odours to us, while by silver brook,  
We sit, and cheat the Fishes with a hook.  
And when the Meadows are disburdened  
Of grass, and with their withered Cocks are spread,  
Then with our Nymphs and Ladies we resort,  
Unto those Cocks, and on, and o'er them sport.  
So Frisking kids their pleasures will display,  
And with their loves in smiling Evenings play.  
When going forwards with sweet tunes received  
Our fingers in each others interweaved,  
We chat of love, and all the way we walk,  
We make the boy the subject of our talk;  
So sport we o'er the Meads, till Hesper come,  
Alured by our delights to light us home.  
The night we pass in contemplations sweet,  
(Contented thoughts makes sable night more fleet)  
And in the morning (morning beautified  
With glorious Sol, who decks it with his pride)  
We ride about the fields to recreate  
Our o'erjoyed minds, minds never stained with hate.  
Where fearful hares before our Greyhounds fly,  
A while they run, and run awhile they die.  
Then cast we off our nimble winged hawk,  
Whose speedy flight all baser preys doth bawk,  
And up, his envying strength doth manage well,  
'Gainst him, who from Minerva's turrets fell.  
Now to her Altar we, whose golden hairs  
Presents our corn, whole handfuls of our ears  
Do bear, who smiling on her Altar, takes  
Our offerings, and next fruitful harvest makes.  
When you Carpathean, and Aegaean Seas  
With odours stain, their flattered God to please.  
If palsy Hy●…ms with his frozen head  
Doth hide fair C●…r●…s in his Icy bed,  
With gins we snatch the silly birds; and snare  
With our deceitful royls, the fearful Hare.  
And now Sydonian boars with angry pace,  
Through thick S●…ymphal●…an Woods our Hounds do chase;  
Who o'er our steepy hills their way do fly,  
Where country swains their speedy flight descry:  
And with a hollow of rejoicing sounds,  
Blown up, encourage our pursuing Hounds.  
Retiting home, we praise, or discommend  
Their long-maintained race, or hasty end.  
When logs of wood in spacious Chimneys laid  
Of a consuming fire, a fire are made,  
And we with our beloved wives declare,  
Those sweet contents in country pleasures are.  
O might I taste those Marriage joys, and tell  
What pure delight in upright Love doth dwell.  
And now to feast loved Christmas with delight,  
Our neighbours to our suppers we invite;  
Which past, and stools before the fire set,  
All former wrath and wranglings we forget,  
And while the Apples in the fierce roast,  
Of kindness we, and country friendship boast,  
Till with a Wassell, which our wives impart  
With sugared hands, we close the night, and part.  
These things thy nation yields us, and would prove  
More blessed, wouldst thou adorn her with thy love.  
For if thou still deprivest us of that light  
Thy presence gives, and that entire delight,  
By which thy Country smiles, she will decay  
In fame, and her renown will fade away.  
And I pursue thee o'er Bononian Rhyne,  
And to thee my dejected life confine.  Will: Bosworth. 
FINIS