LEOLINE & SYDANIS  
An heroic Romance of the adventures of Amorous Princes Together With sundry affectionate addresses to his Mrs: under the name of CYNTHIA By Sr. F. K. Knt.  
LONDON Printed by Richard Hearne D: D: Granges: fecit.    

LEOLINE AND SYDANIS. A ROMANCE OF THE amorous Adventures of PRINCES.  
TOGETHER, WITH sundry AFFECTIONATE ADDRESSES TO His Mistress, under the Name of CYNTHIA.  
Written by Sir Fr. Kinnaston, Knight, Late one of the Squires of the Body to His MAJESTY.  
LONDON, Printed by Ric. Heron, and are to be sold by Thomas Slater, at the sign of the angel in Duck-lane. MDCXLVI.   

To the READER.  
AN Epistle before a book is as ordinary as a Bush before a tavern, and as unnecessary if either the Wine or the book be good: The Author would have written a Dedicatory if he had known to whom; For the candid intelligent Buyer, or Reader of his book there needs no compliment: To the ignorant, or malevolent he cannot descend so low as to use any. He therefore instead of an Epistle prefixes an apology for the Buyers of his Book, and not the Readers of Freecost: First, for that he having by him many pieces of real and solid learning ready written for the press, he exposes this toy and trifle to the world's view and censure: Next, that he being old and stricken in years, doth write of love and such idle devices; for the first, he observes that Ballads, and twelve penny Pamphlets, are a more current commodity than Books of a greater bulk and better note, and like light French stuffs, are sooner bought than cloth of Gold or Tissue, which is not for every one's wearing: For the second, he considering that many elder men than he, do wear love-locks and Fancies, he entering into his second, and worst childhood may of course be excused, if as in his first he was taken with Hobby-horses, Rattles, and Babies: So like old men, who do but Clariùs inepitire, he dote upon women and beauties, and such things, of which they can commonly make little or no use: It is very true, that a Lady's beauty with whom he was scarcely acquainted, begot these lighter Fancies in his head, with whom if he had been really in love, perhaps he would have written more and better lines; It may be said of him, that Agnoscit veteris vestigia flammae, but those fires are now raked up in Embers, his cowre feu Bell being already rung: since he that writ these lines could have writ worse, these perhaps may please some courteous favourable judgements, to whom only be presents and recommends them.   

LEOLINE AND SYDANIS. A Romance of the amorous adventures OF PRINCES.  


FOrtunes of Kings, enamoured Princes loves,  
Who erst from Royal Ancestors did spring,  
Is the high subject that incites and moves  
My lowly voice in lofty Notes to sing▪  
Of Leoline son to a mighty King;  
And of a Princess, Sydanis the fair,  
Who were the world's incomparable pair.   

2.  
You learned Sisters of the Thespian well,  
That sweetly sing to young Apollo's lyre,  
That on Parnassus' forked top do dwell,  
And Poets, with prophetic rage inspire;  
Accept my humble Muse into your choir,  
My labouring breast with noble raptures fill,  
And on my Lines Castalian drops distil.   

3.  
Your aid I need in this great enterprise,  
Be you my guides, and give direction,  
For all too weak are my abilities  
To bring this poem to perfection;  
Let each Muse of her part then make election,  
And while of Love Clio sings loud and clear,  
Melpomene the tragic Base must bear.   

4.  
And be not absent thou all puissant love,  
Thy favour I implore above the rest,  
Thou wilt my best Enthousiasmes prove,  
If with thy flames thou warm my trembling breast;  
And though among thy servants I am least,  
Yet thy high raptures may sublime my fame,  
And blow my spark up to a glorious flame.   

5.  
For without thee impossible it is,  
Of lover's joys, or passions to indite:  
He needs of feats of arms must speak amiss,  
That ne'er saw battle, nor knew how to fight;  
Then how may I of Lovers say aright,  
Or feelingly discourse of them, unless  
Myself had known some joy, and some distress.   

6.  
Therefore since I for each true lover's sake,  
And for the advancement of true love's affairs,  
Am ready pressed this task to undertake;  
Assist me all love's servants with your prayers,  
That neither cold old age, with snowy hairs  
May cool or quench that pure etherial fire,  
With which youths heat did once my soul inspire.   

7.  
And since for every purpose under Sun,  
There is a time and opportunity,  
Pray that this work of mine may be begun  
When as there be aspects of unity  
twixt Mars and Venus, and a clear immunity  
From frosty Saturn's dismal dire aspect,  
And every Planet in his course direct.   

8.  
When Mercury, Lord of the hour and day,  
Shall in his house diurnal potent be  
Not slow, nor yet combust: Then also pray  
He may be in a fortunate degree,  
And in no dark void Azimen, that he,  
Conjoined with Sol, in the tenth house, may thence  
Infuse invention, wit and eloquence.   

9  
That so each love-sick heart, and amorous mind,  
That shall this Romance read, remarking it,  
May remedy, or some such passage find  
As him, or her in the right vain may hit.  
And now having thus prayed, I think it fit,  
That you no longer should the story miss,  
Of Leoline and beauteous Sydanis.   

10.  
Before proud Rome's victorious Legions knew  
The Britains, by blue Neptune's arm divided  
From the whole world, before they did subdue  
The Island Albion, when as Consuls guided  
Their commonwealth, by whom it was decided  
What tribute was imposed on every State,  
Tradition and old Annals thus relate.   

11.  
On the Virgivian Oceans foaming shore,  
Down at the Mountain Snowdons rocky foot,  
Whose Cloud-bound head with mists is ever hoar,  
So high, the sight can scarcely reach unto't,  
Against whose brows the forked lightning shoot:  
A stately Castle stood, whilom the seat  
Of th'old Britain's King, Arvon the great.   

12.  
This King upon Beumaris his fair Queen  
Begot a Prince, whose name was Leoline,  
In whom so many graceful parts were seen,  
As if the heavens and nature did combine,  
To make a face and personage divine,  
For Jove and Venus I imagine were  
Conjoined in his Horoscope Yfere.   

13.  
By whose benign and powerful influence,  
Which governs our affections here below,  
And in love's actions hath pre-eminence,  
Prince Leoline incited was to go  
(His Fortune and the gods would have it so)  
To a fair City, in those days much famed,  
Which from Duke Leon, Carleon was named.   

14.  
This City was not only celebrated  
For Riches brought by Sea from all the West,  
But for a Temple (as shall be related)  
To Venus, unto whom a solemn feast  
Was yearly made, to which the worthiest best  
Of Knights and Ladies came, and who did come,  
If not before, from it went lover's home.   

15.  
And so unto this Prince it did befall,  
Who viewing of those Ladies did repair  
As Votaries to this great festival;  
He was aware of Sydanis the fair,  
Duke Leon's only daughter, and his heir,  
Who offering Sacrifice at Venus' Shrine,  
Did seem the goddess to Prince Leoline.   

16.  
More lovely fair she was than can be told,  
So glorious and resplendent her array,  
Her tresses flowed like waves of liquid Gold,  
Burnished by rising Titan's morning ray,  
From her eyes broke the early dawning day:  
A coral portal placed above her Chin,  
Enclosed a bed of orient pearl within.   

17.  
A Carquenet her neck encircled round  
Of ballast Rubies, cut in form of hearts,  
Which were with true-love knots together bound,  
Of Gold enamelled, pierced with Cupid's darts,  
From which, small pendents by the workman's arts  
Were made, which on her naked skin did show  
Like drops of blood new fallen upon the Snow.   

18.  
More of her beauties will I not relate,  
Of which the young Prince was enamoured,  
It was the god's decree, and will of Fate,  
Prince Leoline fair Sydanis should wed,  
And both be joined in one nuptial bed:  
Nor speak I of their marriage royalties,  
Which were as great as man's wit could devise.   

19  
The Tiltings, jousts, and Tournaments by day,  
The Masques and Revels on the wedding night,  
The songs to which prophetic Bards did play,  
With many other objects of delight,  
(All which this History embellish might,)  
I will omit, since each where of that kind,  
You may in Books frequent descriptions find.   

20.  
For in this match the Fates seemed to portend  
Millions of joys, Myriads of happy hours,  
That on their heads and beds there might descend  
All blessings that come down from heavenly powers,  
No Star malignant on their nuptials lours,  
For Hymen all his Virgin Torches lighted,  
When first these Princely lover's troths were plighted.   

21.  
But O false world! O wretched state unstable  
Of mortal men! O frail condition!  
O bliss more vain than any dream, or fable!  
O brittle joy, even lost in the fruition!  
O doubtful truth! O certain true suspicion!  
O bitter sweetest love, that letest us know,  
That first or last thou never wantest woe!   

22.  
For if there be no lets in the obtaining  
Of a man's honoured Mistress, and her love,  
Yet still there are crosses enough remaining,  
Which neither force, nor foresight can remove,  
That to his joys a sad allay will prove,  
And make him know it is a truth confessed,  
That no one thing on every side is blessed.   

23.  
But to the matter shortly now to go,  
That day the Prince did wed his beauteous Bride,  
As then the custom was, he did bestow  
Rich scarves, and Points, and many things beside,  
Which in fine curious knots were knit and tied;  
And as his royal Favours, worn by those,  
Whom he to grace his Princely nuptials chose.   

24.  
Favours are oft unhappily, by chance  
Bestowed: For 'mongst those Courtiers that did wear  
The Prince's Points, a marquess was of France,  
Who for some heinous fact he had done there,  
Hanged in effigy, fled from France for fear,  
And so for refuge to Carleon came,  
Monsieur Marquis Jean Foutre was his name.   

25.  
Who though he had a Farinee face,  
Thereto a bedstaff Leg, and a splay Foot,  
By angry nature made in man's disgrace,  
Which no long slop, nor any ruffled boot  
Could mend, or hide, for why, they could not do't,  
Though his mouth were a wide world without end,  
His shape so ugly, as no art could mend.   

26.  
Although his weatherwise autumnal joints,  
As if they wanted nature's Ligaments,  
Did hang together, as if tied by Points,  
Though most deformed were his Lineaments;  
Yet sowler was his mind, and base intents,  
His matchless impudence, which appeared in this,  
That he made love to beauteous Sydanis.   

27.  
So by the cankerworm the fragrant Rose  
Is tainted: So the serene wholesome air  
By black contagion, pestilential grows,  
As she by this base wretch, who thought to impair  
The Chastity of one so matchless fair;  
But his foul base intents being once detected,  
Were with all scorn, and just disdain rejected.   

28.  
In dire revenge thereof, that day the bands  
Were made between Prince Leoline and his Bride;  
As the Arch-flamen joined had their hands,  
And made them one, which no man ought divide,  
Upon the Princes Point this caitiff tied  
A magic knot, and muttered a Spell,  
Which had an energetic force from hell.   

29.  
For by it was he maleficiated,  
And quite deprived of all ability  
To use a woman, as shall be related,  
For Nature felt an imbecility,  
Extinguishing in him virillity▪  
The sad events whereof to set before ye,  
Is as the dire Praeludium to our story.   

30.  
Now at that instant the Prince felt no change,  
When as the charm was spoke, nor alteration  
Within his mind or body; for so strange  
Was the effect of the said Incantation,  
As that it wrought in him no perturbation.  
But woe is me: the damned hellish spite  
Was first discerned upon the wedding night.   

31.  
For than this princely couple being laid  
Together in their hymeneal bed,  
And prayers to all the nuptial gods being said,  
To Domiduca, that her home had led:  
To Virginalis, that her maidenhead  
Might without pain be lost, and suddenly,  
To Subiga, that she might quiet lie.   

32.  
And lastly, That Partunda by her power  
The Princess would endue with fruitfulness,  
That she would still make fortunate the hour  
Of her conception, and her labour bless,  
Preventing all abortion, barrenness.  
And now, all these Devotions being said,  
The Bride no longer was to be a Maid.   

33.  
But though the Prince enjoyed all sweets of sense,  
Her rosy lips, which with sweet dew did melt,  
And sucked her breath, sweet as their quintessence,  
Which like to aromatic Incense smelled,  
Though he her dainty virgin beauties felt,  
Embracing of soft Ivory and warm snow,  
Arrived at her Hesperides below:   

34.  
Though Venus in love's wars hath domination,  
Sworn enemy to every Maidenhead,  
And sovereign of the acts of generation,  
Whose skirmishes are fought in the field bed,  
Although her son a troop of Cupid's led;  
Yet thus much had the dismal charm effected,  
As Venus' standard might not be erected.   

35.  
For when no dalliance nor provocation  
That weak opiniator part could raise;  
Which Fancy and a strong imagination,  
Rather than a man's will or reason sways,  
Which rebel-like it ever disobeyes;  
The Prince's heart with shame and rage was filled,  
That wilingly himself he could have killed.   

36.  
For on a sudden he left off to embrace  
And kiss his lovely, and yet maiden bride;  
And with a sigh he turned away his face  
From her, and lying on the other side,  
Under the sheet his face did eftsoons hide.  
At which the princely Lady much dismayed,  
After a while, with tears thus to him said:   

37.  
Dear Lord, if that a Maid, whose innocence  
Is such and so great, as she doth not know  
How to commit a fault, or give offence  
Towards you, to whom her best love she doth owe;  
Nor yet the cause why you are altered so,  
That on the sudden thus you do restrain  
Your favours, turning love into disdain.   

38.  
You made me to believe, when you did woo,  
That I was fair, and had some loveliness:  
But ah, my beauties were too mean for you,  
Or your esteem of them, I must confess;  
Yet in a moment they could not grow less.  
But woe is me, for now I plainly see,  
That the world and my glass have flattered me.   

39  
For with the pleasures that you have enjoyed,  
As the chaste pledges of my nuptial bed,  
Your appetite had not so soon been cloyed,  
Nor you on them so soon had surfeited,  
Which have (it seems) a loathing in you bred:  
By which I find, that human fond desire  
Is like the lightning, at once cloud and fire.   

40.  
I cannot think, but that I do molest  
Your highness, who are used to lie alone,  
I must not be the cause of your unrest,  
And therefore crave your leave I may be gone,  
And leave the bed wholly to be your own:  
Only vouchsafe this ease unto my sorrow,  
That I may sit by you, until to morrow.   

41.  
For I will watch, and to the gods will pray,  
And to your Angel tutelar, to keep  
Your person, and from you to drive away  
All thoughts, and dreams of me, when as you sleep.  
And with that word she bitterly did weep:  
Who, as she was arising from his side,  
Holding her down, thus Leoline replied.   

42.  
Most divine Princely sweetness, do not wast  
That precious odoriferous breath of yours  
In vain, nor fruitlessly away it cast,  
Whose scent excels all essences of flowers:  
For could you sin against the heavenly powers,  
Or could you do a thing that might displease them,  
The incense of your breath would soon appease them.   

43.  
O be not of a breath then so profuse,  
Can purify the air from all infection:  
Nor yet profane it so, as to accuse  
Yourself, of all rare beauties the perfection;  
Of whom the gods themselves have made election,  
To print their forms on, to let mortals see,  
What their angel-like shapes and beauties be.   

44.  
Yet dearest Lady do not think it strange,  
That though you are a Paradise of bliss,  
You are the cause of this my sudden change;  
For why, some god of you enamoured is,  
And makes of me a Metamorphosis:  
For venturing to enjoy what is his own,  
I find myself already turning stone.   

45.  
Or you a goddess are, whose Deity  
Till now I knew not; as Diana chaste,  
Whose sacred heavenly sweets, without impiety,  
By no man can be wantonly embraced;  
And therefore a just punishment is cast  
On my presumption, which was so much more,  
To touch you, whom I rather should adore.   

46.  
And therefore by your bed, as by a Shrine,  
I'll kneel, as penitent for my offence,  
In my affecting of a thing Divine,  
Since you an object are, whose excellence  
Is so exalted above human sense,  
As like the Sun, it rather doth destroy  
Sensation, than permit me to enjoy.   

47.  
Which though I do not, yet you still shall find,  
There is no want of love in me, no more  
Than want of beauty in your heavenly mind,  
Which I religiously shall still adore:  
And though I as a husband loved before,  
I'll turn Platonic lover, and admire  
Your virtue's height, to which none can aspire.   

48.  
With sighs, and such like words, these Princes spent  
The wearisome and tedious night away;  
Prince Leoline by this his compliment,  
T'excuse his want of Manhood did assay:  
Thus sorrowing one by the other lay,  
Till Lucifer the morning did disclose,  
Which when they saw, they from their bed arose,   

49.  
And dressed themselves before that any one  
Knew of it, or their rising was descry'de.  
Away went Leoline, and left alone  
The comfortless, and lovely maiden Bride:  
Now towards the hour of eight it did betide,  
An ancient Matron to their Chamber came,  
The Lady's Nurse, Merioneth was her name.   

50.  
Who for the bridegroom had a Cullis brought,  
And of sweet richest Candian wine a quart,  
To cheer his spirits up: for why, she thought  
Prince Leoline might overact his part,  
In too much using Cupid's wanton dart;  
But seeing the blear eyes of Sydanis,  
Her heart misgave her, something was amiss.   

51.  
And by the Princess, as she trembling stands,  
Madam, quoth she, what causes you unrest,  
That you sit weeping thus, wringing your hands?  
Doth Hymen thus begin your marriage feast?  
Is this the love your bridegroom hath expressed?  
To rise so early, leaving you alone,  
With tears and sighs his absence to bemoan.   

52.  
Hereat the Princess reigning from her eyes,  
A shower of orient pearl, richer than Gold  
Jove poured on Danaë, to her thus replies,  
Dear Nurse (quoth she) my grief cannot be told,  
Words are too weak my sorrows to unfold;  
Nor do I know a reason that might move  
My Lord to leave me, unless want of love.   

53.  
Our feast of love (if any) was soon done;  
So soon all worldly joys away do fleet,  
Which oft are ended as soon as begun;  
Each earthly pleasure being a bitter sweet.  
Ah Nurse, my Lord and I must never meet:  
Yet pray him that he would not her despise,  
Who from his side did a pure Virgin rise.   

54.  
Hearing these words, Merioneth straight fell down.  
Oppressed with grief unspeakable, and woe,  
For fear she well near fell into a swoon▪  
For the experienced Matron did well know,  
Much mischief would ensue, if it were so,  
Or were a truth that Sydanis had said;  
That lying with the Prince, she rose a maid.   

55.  
For that the ancient Britons than did use,  
When any bridegroom did a maiden wed,  
A custom they received from the Jews,  
To bring some linens of the bridal bed,  
To witness she had lost her maiden head,  
Without which testimony there was none  
Believed to be a Virgin, although one.   

56.  
The wedding smock, or linens of the Bride,  
The married couples Parents were to see;  
Whereon, if any drops of blood they spied,  
Rejoicing, they persuaded were, that she  
Had not till then lost her Virginity.  
If on the linens nothing did appear,  
The Bride and bridegroom straight divorced were▪   

57  
And she with shame unto her Father sent,  
As one, whose Chastity had been defiled,  
And of her body was incontinent,  
Or else in secret had a Bastard child;  
And so for ever was to be exiled  
From all pure virgin's company, whose name,  
No tongue of slander justly could defame.   

58.  
Now what to do in this hard doubtful case,  
The poor perplexed Matron did not know;  
To tell the truth, would Leoline disgrace:  
And since of force the linen she must show,  
If it were best to counterfeit or no,  
(To hinder the divorce) a mark or spot,  
In sign the Prince her maidenhead had got.   

59  
Yet this imposture if it were disclosed,  
It might beget both danger and disdain:  
For why, Merioneth wisely presupposed,  
Although to others she a thing might fain,  
Yet to Prince Leoline it was but vain;  
Who knowing his own frozen impotence,  
Would soon suspect the Lady's innocence.   

60.  
Nor was there hope the thing could be concealed,  
Since to King Arvon and Duke Leon's eyes  
The truth of all things was to be revealed,  
This being one of the solemnities.  
Which showed how much our Ancestors did prize  
A virgin's chastity; which approbation,  
What maid declined, was lost in reputation.   

61.  
Yet thus the Nurse resolved in this distress,  
Since Sydanis for three days was t'abide  
Within her Chambers close retiredness,  
As was the custom then for every Bride,  
Till they were past, nothing should be descried:  
In the mean while it was her resolution,  
To try some powerful magical conclusion.   

62.  
Which was, to give a philter or love potion,  
That should not only cure frigidity,  
But to that secret part give strength and motion,  
Imparting heat unto it, and humidity.  
Both this, and many another quiddity  
These credulous old women do believe,  
And to effect such purpose do give.   

63.  
Amongst high horrid rocks, whose rugged brows  
Do threaten surly Neptune with their frown,  
When he at them his foaming Trident throws,  
Beating his high grown surging billows down;  
An aged learned Druid lived, far known  
For magic's skill, who in a lonely Cell  
As hermit, or an Anchorite did dwell.   

64.  
Merioneth posting to this Druids Cave,  
When of her coming she the cause had told,  
The aged Sire unto the Matron gave  
A liquour far more precious than gold,  
Of which the secret virtue to unfold,  
It would not only cause a strong erection,  
But working on the mind, procure affection.   

65.  
Believing this with joy, she back returns,  
And privately to Sydanis she went,  
Who in her Chamber like a Turtle mourns  
She fully told to her all her intent,  
And that successful would be the event,  
That Leoline those pleasures should enjoy,  
The want of which had caused her annoy.   

66.  
Although affection, which Art doth create,  
Is nothing worth, and of true love no part,  
But lust, which satisfied, doth end in hate,  
Yet Sydanis to palliate the smart,  
Rather than cure the wound of her sad hart  
Since of two evils she the least might choose,  
Her nurse's council she will not refuse.   

67.  
Heaven's glorious lamp of light, that all day burned,  
Was now extinguished in the Western Seas;  
To dens the beasts, to nests the birds returned,  
And night arising from th' Antipodes,  
Summoned men from their labours to take ease,  
And drowsy sleep so soon as they repose  
With her soft Velvet hands their eyes doth close.   

68  
When as the Prince the second night did lie  
By lovely Sydanis as yet a maid,  
Again in Venus' wars such force to try  
But when that he with her in bed was laid,  
And had (but all in vain) all means essayed,  
Finding, that his virility was gone;  
He grievously began to sigh and groan.   

69.  
The Princess hearing, mildly prayed him tell  
His cause of grief, that she might bear her part.  
Madam (quoth Leoline) I am not well,  
I feel a deadly pain about my heart:  
Oh might it please the gods, death's Ebon dart,  
(Ere the approach of the next rising morrow)  
Might free me from this world, and you from sorrow.   

70.  
For while I live you'll be unfortunate,  
And in sad discontentment will grow old,  
For (oh my stars) such is my wretched Fate,  
I like a Miser keep a heap of gold,  
For no use else, but only to behold;  
Possessing an unvalued treasure, which  
Being put to use, the whole world would enrich.   

71.  
But now of Ladies, you most excellent,  
Be pleased to hear and pardon what I say:  
In wars to seek a death is my intent,  
For ere the beams of the next morning's ray,  
I from your dearest self must part away,  
And when that I am dead you shall see clearly,  
That (though I leave you) yet I loved you dearly.   

72.  
What tongue can tell the grief of Sydanis,  
When as Prince Leoline, without remorse,  
Had given her his last sad parting kiss,  
And death must them eternally divorce,  
So that unless the magic potions force,  
The Prince's resolution did prevent,  
She thought nought else could alter his intent.   

73.  
Therefore with broken sighs and many a tear,  
She as the Prince was ready for to rise,  
To speak to him once more could not forbear,  
Though to her words, grief utterance denies,  
She showing down a deluge from her eyes  
Which down her cheeks in silver rivers ran,  
With no less modesty than grief began:   

74.  
My Lord (quoth she) your will is a command,  
And shall by me most humbly be obeyed;  
Which, though I could, I ought not to withstand.  
But yet be pleased to think, that you have laid,  
Upon the frailty of a silly maid,  
So insupportable a weight of woe,  
As our weak sex it cannot undergo.   

75.  
What e'er is writ of gristles patience,  
Or Roman Martia's, when she lost her son,  
(Whose grief was lessened by the eloquence  
Of Seneca) by me would be outdone.  
Nay all those Ladies that such fame have won  
For manly fortitude, I should outvie,  
Could I endure my sorrow and not die.   

76.  
But that's impossible, it cannot be;  
Since you, who are my soul's soul, who instead  
Of longer animating it or me,  
Will straight depart, leaving me doubly dead,  
You from my soul, it from me being fled:  
By which you shall a demonstration see,  
Proving a human souls mortality.   

77.  
Now when, like dear departing friends, the soul  
And body from each other are to part,  
The learned physician seeming to control  
Th' approach of death, some cordial gives by's Art,  
That for a while revives the dying part:  
Here is a drink, which if you please to taste  
And drink to me, your pledge shall be my last.   

78.  
Prince Leoline with sighs and sorrow dry,  
Only to quench his thirst with it did think:  
But having drunk it, he immediately,  
(Such was the force of the enchanted drink)  
As one stark dead into his bed did sink;  
Where senseless without motion he did lie,  
As one new fallen into an ecstasy.   

79.  
Th'amazed Princess thinking he was dead,  
Oppressed with grief, she suddenly fell down,  
The spectacle such horror in her bred,  
That with a shriek she fell into a swoon:  
Which her Nurse hearing, and the cause unknown,  
Unto the Prince's bed side ran in haste,  
Being ignorant as yet of what had past:   

80.  
And finding how these Princes speechless lay,  
It was no time nor boot for to complain.  
To bring them back to life she doth assay,  
And first with Sydanis she taketh pain,  
Who after much ado reverts again.  
Which being done, they both together join  
Their labours, to revive Prince Leoline.   

81.  
But all in vain; for after that they two,  
For his recovery all means had tried,  
And finding at the last nothing would do,  
They thought it would be death there to abide;  
And therefore some disguise they would provide,  
That friended by the darkness of the night,  
They might the more securely take their flight.   

82.  
A woman's wit, which in extremities  
Is present, and upon the sudden best:  
For Sydanis, a proper neat disguise  
To her old nurse's thoughts doth straight suggest▪  
Who forthwith went and opened a Chest,  
In an outroom near where the Pages lay,  
One of whose Suits she eftsoons brought away.   

83.  
In this neat, fit, and handsome Pages suit,  
No sooner was fair Sydanis arrayed,  
But as she more advisedly did view't,  
Upon the sudden she was much dismayed,  
And of herself began to be afraid,  
When on the hose before a (fashion then)  
She saw a thing was only worn by men.   

84.  
A shape undecent made by tailor's Art,  
Of secrecies, which Nature bids us hide,  
Which as a case seemed of that privy part,  
Great Julius Caesar covered when he died:  
To look upon it she could not abide,  
It did so much her modesty perplex,  
As now she wished to change both clothes and sex.   

85.  
And needs she would undress herself again,  
Of that immodest habit to be rid;  
But her old Nurse her purpose did restrain;  
Besides, the present danger did forbid  
That act, since no way else she could be hid:  
The doing of it therefore she forbears,  
Which vexed her mind, more than secured her fears.   

86.  
Accoutred thus, and ready to be gone,  
The Princess only for her Nurse doth stay:  
Who without scruple instantly put on  
The clothes Prince Leoline on's wedding day  
Had worn, and dressed herself without delay:  
Nor were the Breech, or Codpiece to her view  
Unpleasing, who so well the linings knew.   

87.  
And now as they were ready for to go,  
The reverend Nurse by reason of her age,  
Had counselled, and had ordered things so,  
She should be Lord, and Sydanis her Page.  
Thus like two birds new got out of a Cage,  
The fly away with all speed they intend,  
And to the Druids Cave their course to bend.   

88  
Yet before that the woeful Sydanis  
Could part away, she could it not forbear,  
On Leoline's cold lips to print a kiss,  
And wash his face with many a briny tear:  
By all the gods she solemnly did swear,  
(For her excuse) she never once did think  
That she had given to him a deadly drink.   

89.  
To clear herself, the poor officious Nurse  
Strong argument and many reasons brought,  
But what was bad before, is now much worse,  
She of the magic potion takes a drought,  
Which on her vital powers so strangely wrought,  
That all the spirits from her heart were fled,  
And she upon the floor fell down as dead.   

Th' affrighted Princess, that before might think  
Her Lord might on an Apoplexy die,  
Or some Apostume; now is sure, the drink  
Was th'only cause of this mortality:  
Grieved for her nurse's fond credulity,  
Who drinking it, had made her griefs far more,  
Doubling the sorrows that she had before.   

91.  
No tongue of Rhethorican can express  
Her patience, which such mischiefs could abide:  
Her perturbations only one may guess  
Who in perpetual fear to be descried  
Must without any company or guide,  
Through solitude and darkness of the night,  
Unto a place uncertain take her flight.   

92.  
But she must go: for fear now bids her fly,  
And to the Druids Cave to post in haste,  
And so to put her life in jeopardy,  
Rather than to be sure to die at last.  
Through desert Rocks, and byways having past,  
Her Genius not permitting her to stray,  
She there arrived ere the break of day.   

93.  
Entering with trembling feet the horrid Cave,  
Morrogh the Druid to her did appear,  
Like a Ghost sitting in a dead man's grave  
Or darksome Vault: who did no sooner see her,  
But beckoning to the Princess to come near,  
The awful silence of his Cell he broke,  
And in few words to Sydanis thus spoke.   

94.  
Thou lovely-seeming youth, who in disguise  
Art come, and art not what thou seem'st in show,  
As if thou couldst deceive my aged eyes,  
Who both thee and thy cause of coming know;  
O let no fond belief delude thee so,  
As make thee think thou canst not be descried,  
Or that from me thy secrets thou canst hide.   

95.  
Thou art a hapless lady, lately wed  
Unto Prince Leoline, whose wretched state  
(Wanting the Pleasures of thy marriage bed)  
I could relieve, and would commiserate,  
Were't not for the inveterate just hate  
I bear King Aracon, who me here cozened  
To live a wretch exiled from all mankind.   

96.  
Therefore to be revenged upon his son,  
For his unjust and cruel father's sake,  
Know Sydanis, that I the deed have done:  
I did the deadly poisonous potion make  
Which thou didst cause Prince Leoline to take;  
For whose dire murder thou wilt be detected,  
Since no one else but thee can be suspected.   

97.  
Nor is thy nurse, that came unto my Nell  
(Whose death as well as Leoline's doth grieve thee)  
As now alive, the truth of things to tell:  
There is but one way left now to relieve thee,  
And therefore take the counsel that I give thee,  
Fly straight beyond seas, for before Sun rise,  
Men will be here thy person to surprise.   

98.  
The Druids words, like the death-boding notes  
Of the night raven, or the ominous owl,  
Sent from their dismal hollow sounding throats;  
Or like the noise of dogs by night, that howl  
At the departing of a sick man's soul:  
Such terror into Sydanis did strike,  
As never tender Lady felt the like.   

99  
What she should do, or whether she should go  
The poor distressed Sydanis not knew,  
If undescried she could take ship or no;  
And thereupon what dangers might ensue,  
Therefore with visage deadly pale of hue.  
Oh Druid let me die at once, she says;  
And not so often, and so many ways.   

100  
And here I'll die; thy Cell shall be my grave:  
Before thee all my misery shall end.  
So as if any come into thy cave  
And find me here, they may thee apprehend  
And with wild horses thee in pieces rend:  
Inflicting several deaths on thy each limb,  
For murdering a Prince, and me in him.   

101.  
As Sydanis these passionate words spoke,  
All ready was her nimble flickering ghost  
Her body's beauteous Mansion to forsake,  
And towards the blessed Elysium fields to post  
All sense of this world's miseries were lost:  
Yet this her sad departure seemed most sweet,  
That there again she Leoline should meet.   

102  
But now the Druid, who unto the height  
Had wrought her grief, resolved to hold his hand,  
And suddenly to alleviate that weight  
Of woe oppressed her, takes a frozen wand,  
With which, and magic spells, he could command.  
The Furies, Fates, nymphs, fairies, or what else  
In the Seas deeps, or earth's dark bosom dwells.   
Explicit pars prima.   


103.  
BRight beauty's goddess, Aphrodite styled,  
From whitest froth of the Sea billows sprung,  
O Jove's most lovely best beloved child,  
Who evermore continuest fresh and young,  
Assistant be to that which here is sung,  
And guide my Muse, which now the land forsakes,  
And to the stormy Seas herself betakes.   

104.  
Sweet-singing Sirens, you who so enchant,  
The Pilot and the listening Mariner  
As the one's head, the others hand doth want  
Abilities the rudder for to steer,  
Receive a beauty to you without peer,  
That puts to Sea, whose orient teeth and lips,  
Doth shed your coral, and your pearl eclipse.   

105.  
For now the Druid took her in his arms,  
Which never yet so sweet a burden bore,  
Waving his rod with strange and hideous charms,  
Whilst near the water he stood on the shore,  
Aspectacle appeared ne'er seen before:  
For Amphitrite the great Queen of Seas,  
Appeared with twelve Sea Nymphs Nereids.   

106.  
Here I should tell you how this glorious Queen  
Sat in a Chariot, no man's eye e'er saw  
So rare a one; her robes were of Sea green,  
Her coach four hippopotomis did draw,  
Who feared no gust, nor tempests angry flaw▪  
But to describe things now I cannot stand,  
I baste to finish what I have in hand.   

107.  
Three steps into the Sea the Druid wading,  
The sleeping Princess to the coach he heaves,  
Who proud to be enriched with such a lading,  
Her Amphitrite joyfully receives,  
With whom old Morrogh such directions leaves  
As needful were, whether, and in what sort  
She should the beauteous Sydanis transport.   

108.  
Leaving the firth whereas black Durdwyes streams.  
Swifter than shafts shot from the Russes bow,  
Do enter and invade King Neptune's reams,  
Justling the surly waves when as they flow,  
Under Hilbrees high craggy cliffs doth row,  
The Seas fair Queen, whom Tritons do attend,  
While towards the main Sea she her course doth bend.   

109.  
The Sea-bred steeds so swiftly cut the main,  
As that the sight of every land was lost,  
But a glass being turned, they see again  
The Island Mona's solitary coast,  
Who of her learned Bards may justly boast  
In music, and in prophecies deep skilled,  
Who with sweet Englens all the world had filled.   

110.  
And as the Sun arose, they did descry  
The lofty cliffs of the high head of Hoth,  
A rocky promontory, which doth lie,  
Near Erinland, white with sea-billows froth,  
Here Amphitrite (though exceeding loath)  
Was by the Druid Morroghs strict command,  
Her dearest lovely charge to set on land.   

111.  
But yet before such time she would do so,  
She sends three Sea nymphs down into the deep,  
To bring her up such treasures from below,  
As under rocks the whealthy Sea-gods keep.  
Now all this while was Sydanis asleep,  
And dreamt that she was in some tempest tossed,  
And shipwreck, she and all her goods were lost.   

112.  
But dreams fall out by contraries; for why?  
The Sea nymphs with more speed than can be told,  
Returning, brought from Neptune's treasury  
A large heap of a wrecked Merchants gold,  
More than a pages pockets well could hold.  
The second coral brought: The third, a piece  
Of the Seas richest treasure, Amber Gris.   

113.  
Last, the sea's Empress, for to testify  
How much her love and bounty did abound,  
A rope of orient pearl did straight untie,  
Which thrice her ivory neck encircled round,  
Such as in deepest Southern Seas are found,  
These pearls she knit on Sydanis her wrist,  
And having, done a thousand times her kissed.   

114.  
Then raining tears upon her curled head,  
Which was on Amphitrites bosom laid,  
She wept o'er Sydanis as she were dead:  
So much sleep (deaths resemblance) her dismayed,  
As that a man that saw them would have said,  
That once more there was really again,  
Venus, and in her lap Adonis slain.   

115.  
The sad Nereids with mournful cheer,  
Taking their leaves, do kiss her whitest hand,  
Grieving to leave her, whom they held so dear.  
And now as they approached near the strand,  
Within some dozen steps of the dry land,  
Down dived the hipopotomis the Queen,  
Her chariot, horses, Nymphs, no more were seen.   

116.  
Fair Sydanis now left to swim or sink,  
A shore the surges of the billows threw;  
Who therewith waking, verily did think,  
That what she dreamt had really been true.  
The manner of her coming she not knew,  
But howsoever, although cold and wet,  
She was right glad she was on dry land set.   

117.  
There not full half an hour she did abide,  
Wondering how she such gold and pearl had got,  
But by a fisherman she was espied,  
Who saw her page's cloak and bonnet float  
Upon the waves, and towards her with his boat  
(Taking them up) all possible speed he makes,  
And Sydanis into his Skiffe he takes.   

118.  
Two leagues thence distant was a famous port  
Of a great City, that Eplana hight,  
Where Dermot King of Erin held his court,  
Attended on by many a Lord and Knight,  
To whom the fisher man told in what plight  
He on the shore a shipwreckt youth had found,  
And how the rest o'th' passengers were drowned.   

119.  
When as King Dermot Sydanis beheld,  
It doubtful was whether his admiration  
Of her rare face, which others all excelled,  
Was greater, or his tender sad compassion  
Of her mishap, which gave to him occasion,  
His royal bounty towards her to express,  
And to relieve her wants in this distress.   

120.  
Desiring therefore first to have her name,  
She told him that her name Amanthis was,  
Page to a British Prince, who as he came  
For Erinland (such was his woeful case)  
Was drowned, as he those stormy Seas did pass;  
And that except her pages only suit,  
She was of means and all things destitute.   

121.  
The royal Dermot forthwith gave command,  
She should have any thing that he could grant.  
And now because the King did understand,  
His only Princely daughter Mellefant,  
Of such a page at that time stood in want,  
He to her chamber did Amanthis send,  
The high borne lovely Princess to attend.   

122.  
The fair attendant by King Dermot sent,  
The noble Princess kindly doth receive,  
Whose page-like and descreet deportement.  
Was such as no one did her sex perceive.  
Now as a page Amanthis we must leave,  
With the fair Princess Mellefant to dwell,  
And you shall hear what Leoline befell.   

123.  
Dionea early rising in the dark,  
Sets open wide the opal ports of day,  
In night's black tinder putting out each spark,  
That twinkling shone with a faint flaring ray,  
And now Nyctimene was flown away,  
To the dark covert of a hollow tree,  
Unwilling Phoebus brightest beams to see.   

124.  
The glorious rays of the next morning's light,  
Which from the Eastern ocean arose,  
The dismal deeds of the preceding might,  
To the world's view were ready to disclose:  
And night unable longer to oppose  
Bright Phoebus, or such things in secret keep,  
Down sinking dived into the Western deep.   

125.  
The sun's swift coursers upwards making haste  
From his first house in the East horizon,  
Had now two more supernal mansions past,  
And to the entrance of the third were gone,  
Ere any of these things in Court had known▪  
But when nor Prince, nor Princess did appear,  
Each one admired why they not stirring were.   

126.  
King Arnon and Duke Leon gave command,  
A page should to the Prince's chamber go,  
And instantly should let them understand,  
If that Prince Leoline were well or no:  
And why his rising he deferred so.  
The page he went, and finding the door locked,  
Softly at first, then louder called and knocked.   

127.  
But when within, no answer he could hear,  
Nor voice of any one that to him spoke;  
The page unto the King relates his fear,  
Who straight commands that with a mighty stroke,  
Of iron bars the door should down be broke.  
Which having done, and broken down the door,  
A dismal sight lay on the chamber floor.   

128.  
For there the aged Nurse along was laid,  
Cold and stretched out, as one that were stark dead,  
In all Prince Leoline's best clothes arrayed.  
Which sight not only fear, but wonder bred.  
The King and Duke straight went unto the bed,  
And opening the curtains▪ there alone  
The Prince lay dead, but Princess there was none.   

129.  
Tearing their hairs with lamentable groans,  
These two sad parents eyes with tears abound:  
The King his son; Duke Leon he bemoans  
His daughter's loss, who nowhere could be found▪  
Men search for her above and under ground,  
But all in vain: for she (you heard) was gone  
The night before to Erinland, unknown.   

130.  
The ports are stopped they search each boat and bark,  
Thinking that in some ship they might her find:  
But that unlikely was, when as they mark  
How that contrary blue the Northwest wind,  
Yet this her absence to King Arnons mind  
Was evidence enough it could not be,  
That any one had killed the Prince but she.   

131.  
Now as before a storm, the clouded sky  
Blackens and darkens, sullenly it loures,  
Ere that the dreadful thunderer from on high  
Roars in the clouds, and on the earth down pores  
Another dismal Cataclysme of shores,  
Even so King Arnons countenance did betoken  
A storm of words, which afterwards were spoken.   

132.  
For in the word of an enraged King,  
(Whose fatal anger is assured death)  
He vowed he would upon Duke Leon bring  
Confusion; for his sword he would unsheathe,  
Which ne'er should be put up whilst he had breath,  
Until that he a just revenge should take,  
For Sydanis his murderous daughter's sake.   

133.  
You must imagine more than shall be said,  
Touching Duke Leon's grief and his reply,  
Unto whose charge a Prince's death was laid,  
Against all laws of hospitality:  
He told King Arnon that he did defy  
His threats, and being free from all offence,  
He knew heaven would protect his innocence.   

134.  
Leaving Carleon, back the King returned  
Unto Carnarvan castle, with intent,  
That since that he and all his Court now mourned,  
The Prince's body thither should be sent,  
To lay him by his Ancestors he meant,  
Whose funeral should not be long deferred,  
But he with all solemnity interred.   

135.  
Among these troubles and distractions,  
That twixt King Arnon and Duke Leon fell,  
The caitiff Marquis Foutre, all whose actions  
Were formed by some infernal fiend in hell,  
Had learned, there was a Druid that could tell  
Men's fortunes, and what e'er they did demand,  
Could give a resolution out of hand.   

136.  
To Morrogh went this Foutre for to know  
The place to which fair Sydanis was fled,  
And whether that she living was or no:  
If not, and that she certainly was dead,  
He needs would know where she was buried.  
To whom the Druid with a countenance grave,  
Waving his wand, this sudden answer gave:   

137.  
Know Frenchman, if to satisfy thy lust  
Of that fair Lady, whom thou dost pursue,  
Thou do intend; to Erinland thou must:  
There thou mayst find her, and thy suit renew.  
But seeing that the wind contrary blue,  
Foutre demanded, hast thou not a kind  
Of trick in magic for to sell a wind.   

138.  
Yea, quoth the Druid, ere thou hence depart,  
That I am my art's Master thou shalt know,  
And am no ignorant in magic art;  
For knots that on thy handkerchief I'll throw,  
Untied shall cause, that any wind shall blow,  
Or strong or gently; and as thou dost please,  
Shall waft thy ship or bark along the Seas.   

139.  
On Foutres handkerchief three knots he knits,  
Which when he was at Sea should be untied:  
This done, forthwith the Druids Cell he quits,  
And to the haven of Carleon hied,  
Himself there of such shipping to provide,  
As at that time the haven did aford,  
Where having got a ship he went aboard.   

140.  
Untying the first knot, the wind, whose blast  
Was contrary unto his going out,  
And blue ahead, now blew abaft as fast,  
And was upon the sudden come about:  
Which caused all the Mariners to doubt  
That they had got a passenger, whose art  
Had no relation to the seaman's Chart.   

141.  
The second knot unknit the merry gales,  
The vessels linen wings her sales did spread,  
Which having past the dangerous coast of Wales,  
Was sailing now athwart the Holy-head  
The Skippers without sinking of their lead,  
Upon a sudden now are come so nigh  
To Erinland, that they it do descry.   

142.  
Here Foutre was the third knot to untie,  
Who thought he had the winds at his dispose.  
But having loosed that knot, immediately  
So hideous a storm at Sea arose,  
As if each several wind that fiercely blows  
From two and thirty points at Sea, had met,  
Contending who the sovereignty should get.   

143.  
The Mariners observing that the storm  
From any natural cause proceeded not,  
Noting withal the superstitious form  
And manner of untying of the knot,  
Which now this raging tempest had begot,  
Ready to sink with every stormy blast,  
Marquis Jean Foutre over board they cast.   

144.  
No sooner was the miscreant thrown in,  
And in the bottom drowned, but straight the Seas  
Were calm again, as if the wretch had been  
A sacrifice, their anger to appease,  
So that it did the fatal Sisters please,  
That he that tied one knot, in the conclusion,  
Should by another come unto confusion.   

145.  
The Mariners now with a prosperous blast,  
Their sea-tossed vessel towards Carleon guide,  
Which there I leave, all dangers being past,  
At anchor in the harbour safe to ride:  
For I must tell what fortune did betide  
Unto Prince Leoline, whose various fate  
Makes the strange story that I shall relate.   

146.  
Twice had pale Phoebe in her silver wain,  
Drawn with fell dragons, rode her nightly round,  
Since that the prince with his face bare had lain,  
Within an open coffin yet unwound  
In's winding sheet, his hands and feet not bound,  
That when a prince was dead all men might see  
And know for certainty, that it was he.   

147.  
Now the third night, which was the night before  
The Prince's body was to be conveyed  
Unto Carnarvan, there were half a score  
Of Knights and Squires in mourning black arrayed,  
That watching by the Prince's body stayed,  
Who being fore-waked, they could no longer keep  
Their eye lids open, but fell all a sleep.   

148.  
Just at the hour of night the Prince did take  
The potion which the Druid did compose,  
Out of dead sleep did Leoline awake,  
And like a ghost out of the coffin rose,  
Which erst his Princely body did enclose:  
For now the potion had no more a force  
To make a living Prince a seeming corpse.   

149.  
For it was but a soporiferous potion,  
Made of cold Night-shades, Gladials, Popies juice,  
Which for a while suppressed all sense and motion,  
And of his members took away the use.  
By an Narcoticke power it did infuse,  
Which could no longer work on Leoline,  
But till the moon passed to another sign.   

150.  
Nor ought this to seem strange, since as we read,  
Inhabitants of the cold frozen Zone,  
Called Lewcomori, for six Months seem dead;  
For as for sense, or motion they have none,  
And so remain till Phoebus having gone  
Through the six Southern signs, salutes the Twins,  
At which time yearly their new life begins.   

151.  
But pass we this: The Prince in dead of night  
Finding that those that should have watched, him slept,  
Took up the mortar by whose small dim light  
He silently unto the chamber stepped  
Of an Esquire, who all his wardrobe kept,  
Whom he in all important things employed,  
And most relied upon: His name was Ffloyd.   

152.  
Coming now near, and waking the Esquire,  
Whose hair for fear began upright to stand,  
Thinking he saw a ghost, but coming nigher,  
The Prince upon him gently laid his hand,  
And beckoned as he silence would command;  
Then putting on a Suit he lately wore,  
They both at midnight went to the Sea shore.   

153.  
Who being now informed by the way,  
Of all the accidents that had fallen out,  
He durst no longer in Carleon stay,  
Duke Leon's faithfulness he did misdoubt,  
Who (as he did conceive) had gone about  
To poison him, and would some plot contrive,  
That might of life him utterly deprive.   

154.  
No sooner were they come, but there they found  
(Even as they wished) then ready to hoist sail  
A vessel that for Erinland was bound,  
They so far with the Mariners prevail,  
To take them in; of which they did not fail:  
And now the wind so large was, that e'er day,  
The ship quite out of sight was flown away.   

155.  
Prince Leoline being loath it should be known,  
What either he, or his associate were  
Desired the Skippers, that they two alone,  
On the next coast or creek that did appear,  
Rowed in their cockboat, might be landed there.  
The Mariners accordingly it did,  
And the mean time the ship at anchor rid.   

156.  
As they were ready for to set their feet  
Upon dry land, and so to take their way,  
Upon the shore a ghastly sight they meet,  
For there Jean Foutres drowned body lay,  
In the same clothes, and in the same array,  
He on the Prince's wedding day had worn,  
Whose face and hands fishes had eat and torn.   

157.  
The Prince approaching nearer for to view  
The sea-drowned carcase, which he had descried;  
That it was Foutre, instantly he knew;  
For on his breast his bridal point he spied,  
Which Leoline forthwith took and untied,  
Unwilling that the Mariners should have  
A thing he as his wedding favour gave.   

158.  
The magic knot undone by fortune strange,  
And by this sad and yet glad accident,  
In Leoline did work a sudden change:  
For though it was undone with no intent,  
But such as hath been said; yet the event  
Was such, and did so happily succeed,  
He from th'enchanted Ligature was freed.   

159.  
The Jewels, Gold, and Silver that he found,  
Among the seamen he distributed;  
Who making of a poor hole in the ground,  
Such as is made for felons being dead,  
(Who by the high way side are buried)  
Jean Foutres body they stark naked strip,  
Which done they back do row unto their ship.   

160.  
Prince Leoline and his Esquire Fsloyd  
In Erinland being safely set on shore,  
The better all suspicion to avoid,  
Would not unto Eblana come, before  
They had concealed themselves a week or more:  
In the mean time they purpose to devise  
A way how they might pass in some disguise.   

161.  
Which while they are contriving, you shall hear  
King Arnon and Duke Leon's sad estate,  
Who equally in grief engaged were,  
And equally did one another hate:  
With swords they mean the business to debate,  
And thereupon make preparation,  
One for defence, the other for invasion.   

162.  
For when the servants that King Arnon sent,  
Missing the body, all about had sought,  
And could by no means find which way it went,  
Returning to the King they nothing brought  
But only this conjecture, that they thought  
Duke Leon (on whom all the blame they lay)  
Whilst they did sleep, had stolen the corpse away.   

163.  
And buried it obscurely in some place,  
Where never any one should find his grave.  
Th' enraged King resenting this disgrace,  
And now perceiving that he might not have  
His son alive, nor dead, he straight way gave  
Commissions forth an army to assemble,  
Should make Carlrons' city walls to tremble.   

164.  
'Tis hard to say, whether was greater grown,  
King Arnons anger, or Duke Leon's grief;  
On whom those black aspersions were thrown,  
First of a murderer, and then a thief:  
His patience yet (exceeding all belief)  
And fortitude, were greater than his wrongs,  
Or the foul malice of all slanderous tongues.   

165.  
So now it happed as Leon went alone  
To Venus' Temple, and at midnight prayed,  
Down in that very vault he heard one groan,  
Wherein two nights before the Nurse was laid:  
Then afterwards he heard a voice, which said,  
Oh when will it be day? When will the light  
Disperse the darkness of this endless night?   

166.  
The Duke at first amazed, recollects  
His feare-dispersed spirits, and before  
That he would speak, he earnestly expects  
To bear what the sad ghost would utter more:  
Whom he perceived wept, and sighed sore:  
Which made him on it such compassion take,  
As that forthwith the vault be open brake.   

167.  
And bowing down into the grot, he said,  
If thou a soul leaving th' Elysian rest,  
Art back returned, whereas thy corpse is laid,  
To bring some comfort to a Prince distressed,  
And with all manner injuries oppressed;  
Then in the dead more mercy doth abound,  
Than here among the living can be found.   

168.  
For thou wilt tell me whether bale or bliss  
Be now the sad condition or glad state  
Of my late dear deceased Sydanis,  
And where and how she yielded to her fate  
All which, I pray thee, gentle ghost, relate,  
And ease my heavy heart, oppressed with grief,  
Which among mortals can find no relief.   

169.  
Grief hath few words. Th'amazed Nurse that heard  
Duke Leon's words, and knew it was his voice;  
Of the vaults darkness being much afeard,  
And the dead silence where there was no noise;  
Not knowing if she waked, or dreamt, the choice  
That she did make, was rather to conceal  
Herself a while, than any thing reveal.   

170.  
And therefore that opinion to maintain,  
And fancy in Duke Leon, of a ghost  
From the Elysian shades returned again,  
And had now twice the Stygian ferry crossed,  
To seek that body it before had lost;  
She in a piteous voice Duke Leon told,  
As yet she might not any thing unfold.   

171.  
For Minos, Aeacus, and Rhadamant  
The three grim Judges of th' infernal Court,  
Would not unto the ghosts a licence grant,  
The secrets of the dark world to report;  
But to their tombs they nightly must resort,  
Till seven nights were past, and there must stay  
Till the cock's crow before the break of day.   

172.  
But if that he on the eighth night would come  
About the hour of twelve, when ghosts appear,  
And call upon her at the silent tomb,  
Of all things he the certainly should hear  
Where Leoline and his fair daughter were,  
And be informed of every thing he craved,  
And what the fates on leaves of steel had graved.   

173.  
The Duke expecting at that time no more,  
Up from the vault he silently arose,  
Forgetting now to shut the Temple door,  
Unto his Palace back again he goes,  
And now the Nurse ere that the first cock crows,  
Stole from the vault, and in her winding sheet,  
Went to a beldames house in a by-street.   

174.  
Who being a lone woman, was most fit  
To keep her close, and what she had designed;  
Unto whose trust herself she doth commit,  
And told to the old beldame all her mind;  
Intending that as soon as she could find  
An opportunity, she would go thence  
To Morrogh, to get more intelligence.   

175.  
Through darkness of the third ensuing night,  
To the learned Druid Morroghs Cell she went,  
Clad like a soldier, in a buff coat dight,  
With hat, sword, gorget. This habiliment  
Her hostess the old beldame to her lent,  
Whose husband being a soldier long before,  
Under Duke Leon, in his life time wore.   

176.  
Attired thus in habit of a man,  
When she before the reverend Druid came,  
To counterfeit men's gesture she began:  
And to appear that she was not the same  
She was, she altered her voice and name,  
Thinking that Morrogh knew not who she was,  
But that she for a soldier well might pass.   

177.  
But he well knowing she did counterfeit,  
And to delude his cunning had a mind,  
Resolved her finenesses should be met,  
And quitted back to her in their own kind:  
(Soldier quoth he) I by my skill do find,  
Prince Leoline and Sydanis are fled,  
And Merioneth her old Nurse is dead.   

178.  
More of the Princes I cannot unfold;  
But by my art I certainly do know,  
That e'er three days be past, thou shalt behold  
Carleon city walls beleaguered so,  
That out of it alive there none shall go;  
By famine brought to that extremity,  
As that the Duke himself thereof would die.   

179.  
But such a horrid death I must prevent,  
And for thou seem'st one of Duke Leon's guard,  
Tell him that I to him by thee have sent  
An Amulet by chemic art prepared,  
Whose virtue told, will purchase thy reward,  
For if that one but touch his lips with it,  
'Twill satisfy the hungry appetite.   

180.  
The skilful Druid gave no more direction.  
Nor of the secret properties moe spoke,  
Of the Epiminedial confection.  
The seeming-soldier doth the present take,  
And towards Carleon all post haste doth make,  
Intending that if possible she may,  
She would be back before the break of day.   

181.  
But e'er 'twas day, King Arnons legions were  
So far advanced, as that he sent a Scout  
To make discovery if the foe were near,  
Or that there were any ambushment without.  
Now as the swift Vant-curriers rode about  
As sentinel perdue, the Nurse they caught,  
And to King Arnon instantly her brought.   

182.  
Who forthwith gave command she should be sent  
Unto Carnarvan, and there should be cast  
Into the deepest dungeon, to th' intent  
That she in links of iron fettered fast,  
Being hunger-starved to death, should breathe her last.  
His angry doom is straight accomplished,  
And to Carnarvan is Merioneth led;   

183.  
Of all poor creatures most unfortunate:  
For while that in the dungeon she did lie,  
She with herself did often times debate,  
Whether was better, hunger-starved to die,  
Or for to take the Druids remedy,  
'Twould but prolong her misery to use it,  
And it was present death for to refuse it.   

184.  
But here I leave her and King Arnons host  
Carleon city walls besieging round:  
My tale must follow them, who having crossed  
The British Seas, for Erinland were bound,  
Where Leoline fair Sydanis hath found,  
But so transformed, as (though he did her see)  
He little did suspect, that it was she.   
Explicit pars secunda.   


185.  
LAtona's Twins, bright Cynthia, and her brother  
Resplendent Phoebus, with his glroious rays  
Had seven times given place to one another,  
And fully had accomplished seven days  
Ere Leoline through devious woods and ways,  
Accompanied by Fsloyd as his consort,  
Came to Eblana to King Dermots court.   

186.  
On the eighth day, sacred to Venus' name,  
If fortuned at Court there was a feast  
To welcome an ambassador that came  
From Albion which they two (among the rest)  
Coming to see, like two French Monsieurs dressed,  
They, noted to be strangers, were so graced,  
As next to the King's table to be placed.   

187.  
At midst whereof under a cloth of state,  
To which one must by three degrees ascend,  
In a rich chair the royal Dermot sat,  
Th' ambassador and Princess at each end,  
On Mellefant, Amanthis doth attend,  
As cupbearer, the while that she did dine,  
And when she pleased to call, did bring her wine.   

188.  
When as six several courses served had been,  
The royal dinner drawing towards an end,  
A rich and sumptuous banquet was brought in,  
Which did such kinds of sweetmeats comprehend,  
As might with fruits of Paradise contend.  
Of which the choicest and most excellent  
The Princess to the seeming Frenchmen sent.   

189.  
Giving her page Amanthis a command  
To let them know, that if they did desire,  
They should be brought to kiss King Dermots hand.  
Prince Leoline and Fsloyd his faithful Squire,  
These unexpected courtesies admire:  
Which taking, they a low obeisance make,  
Admiring the pure French Amanthis spoke.   

190.  
To whom Prince Leoline in French replied,  
And told her, such an unexpected grace,  
Their duties and affections so tied,  
As that they all occasions would embrace,  
To testify their service; and in case  
They might receive such honour, that it would  
Oblige them more than any favour could.   

191.  
The Table taken from before the King,  
And all the royal Ceremonies ended,  
Amanthis eftsoons did the strangers bring,  
And told him that two French Lords there attended,  
By Mcllefant the Princess recommended,  
To have the honour for to kiss his hands,  
And to receive his majesty's commands.   

192.  
King Dermot full of royal courtesy,  
Not only gave his hand, but more to grace 'em  
Descended so below his Majesty,  
As that he did in friendly wise embrace 'em,  
Commanding his Lord chamberlain to place 'em  
In his own lodgings, that they might not want  
Conveniency to wait on Mellefant.   

193.  
Whose hands they kissing with all reverence  
The Princess doth them kindly entertain:  
Now while the King had private conference  
With the ambassador, the Prince did gain  
An opportunity for to detain  
The Princess in discourse: twixt him and her  
Amanthis was the sweet interpreter.   

194.  
Prince Leoline's discourses pleased so well  
The Princess, that she oftentimes did send  
To have him come, fine Romances to tell,  
To which she would so sweet attention lend,  
As Dido-like she seemed to depend  
Upon his lip, and such delights did take,  
She wished to speak French only for his sake.   

195.  
But whatsoever by the Prince was said  
Of love, or of adventures of that kind,  
Must by Amanthis be interpreted,  
Whose eyes the Prince's language could not blind  
For he was known, and how he stood inclined,  
Nor was discreet Amanthis ignorant,  
That Leoline made love to Mellefant.   

196.  
But to what end she could not yet discover:  
For if to marry her was his intent;  
It seemed most strange that he should be a lover,  
Who in love's actions was so impotent;  
And if he were not so, than that content  
Should Mellefant enjoy, and that delight  
In Hymen's sports, which was Amanthis right.   

197.  
But e'er a month was past, it fortuned so,  
The Princess Mellefant, Amanthis sent  
To the Prince Leoline, to let him know  
And carry him this courtly compliment,  
That if he pleased to ride abroad, she meant  
(Since that the whether was so calm and fair)  
To ride into the fields to take the air.   

198.  
Amanthis with this message being gone,  
Prince Leoline was in his chamber found  
Sitting upon his bedside all alone:  
His countenance sad, his eyes fixed on the ground,  
As if he did with careful thoughts abound:  
But seeing of Amanthis, he acquired  
A happiness that he had long desired.   

199.  
For he now got an opportunity,  
His mind unto Amanthis to disclose:  
Whose message being told, immediately  
The Prince began and said, fair youth suppose  
I told a secret, might I not repose  
So much in thee as never to reveal it,  
But in thy faithful bosom to conceal it▪   

200.  
To whom Amanthis straight replied, You may  
A privacy unto my trust commit,  
Which if it touch the Princess any way,  
Or King, to hide it were not safe nor fit;  
For in my duty I must utter it:  
But if so be that it touch none of these,  
You may securely tell me what you please.   

201.  
Quoth Leoline, that which I have to say  
Concerns the Princess, but in such a kind,  
As if that thou my counsel shouldst bewray,  
After that I have uttered all my mind,  
It may be I with thee no fault should find:  
For say I should desire thee to prove,  
Whether the Princess Mellefant could love.   

202.  
My fortunes and my birth perchance may be  
Greater than yet they seem, 'tis often seen,  
Mean clothes do hide high-born Nobility.  
And though she be a Princess, nay a Queen,  
Great Princesses have oft enamoured been  
Of gentlemen; so fortune did advance  
Medor above the Palladines of France.   

203.  
And so Queen Clytaemnestra, as we read,  
Before King Agamemnon did prefer  
And took into her royal nuptial bed  
Aeghistus her sweet faced adulterer,  
In birth and fortunes far unworthy her,  
And so fair Helen did young Paris make  
Her choice, and Menelaus did forsake.   

204.  
But these thou'lt say were precedents of lust,  
And such as virtuous Ladies should detest:  
But what I seek is honourably just;  
Which since I have committed to thy breast,  
If thou, fair lovely youth, wilt do thy best  
My suit to thy sweet Princess to commend,  
Be sure that thou hast gained a thankful friend.   

205.  
To which Amanthis answered, You are  
(My Lord) a stranger and as yet unknown,  
You must upon your honour then declare  
Whether you have a Lady of your own  
Living; and if that she from you be gone,  
Or you from her, if either should be true,  
None knwes the inconvenience would ensue.   

206.  
These speeches startled Leoline, whose hart  
Being conscious, made him answer, 'Tis a truth  
I had a Lady once, to whom thou art  
So like in feature, personage, beauty, youth,  
And every lineament, as if she doth  
Yet live, I should my state and life engage,  
That thou wert she in habit of a page.   

207.  
For woe is me, away from me she fled,  
Being ignorant of what the cause might be,  
And left me lying fast asleep in bed;  
And now for aught I know thou mayst be she;  
For her true image I behold in thee:  
But to believe't were fondness. Here he stopped,  
And from his eyes some crystal tears there dropped.   

208.  
Amanthis weeping for to see him weep,  
(My Lord,) quoth she, if you a Lady had  
That parted from you when you were asleep,  
(Though loath) I shall unto your sorrows add  
Such a relation shall make you more sad,  
Fri of your Lady can nowhere be found,  
It is too true I fear that she is drowned.   

209.  
For now it is some twenty days and more  
Since Mariners arrived here, who do say  
How that they found sailing along the shore  
The body of a Frenchman cast away,  
On whom were letters found that did bewray  
That he had stolen a Lady, who together  
Perished with him, as they were coming hither.   

210.  
And if one may believe the common fame  
That 'mongst the people hath divulged this,  
The Lady was of quality, her name  
If I remember right, was Sydanis.  
Now if that this were she that did amiss,  
And so much wronged your love, I must confess  
Your sorrow for her ought to be the less.   

211.  
Prince Leoline hearing this sad relation,  
Like serpents to him were Amanthis words,  
Stirring both jealousy and indignation,  
And pierced his heart like to so many swords,  
His grief this only utterance affords,  
Ah, Sydanis was she, whom I deplore,  
Who seemed a Saint, but ah me died a whore.   

212.  
Well (quoth Amanthis) if I may amend  
What is amiss, or may your woe relieve,  
You may be sure I shall my furtherance lend,  
And to your suit my best assistance give:  
For Sydanis no longer shall you grieve,  
For being free to marry whom you please,  
I shall endeavour to procure your case.   

213.  
This said, Amanthis Leoline did leave,  
And back returned to act that was designed.  
Now here a man may easily conceive  
What perturbations vexed the Prince's mind,  
Who knowing be Jean Foutre dead did find,  
And that part of the story he well knew,  
He might well think, that all the rest was true.   

214.  
Perplexed with doubts, whether his impotence  
Was the sole cause made Sydanis to fly  
Before that he could have intelligence  
Of such unfeigned marks as might descry  
The truth, or loss of her virginity,  
For though she as a virgin was reputed,  
Yet by Jean Foutre he might be cornuted.   

215.  
On th' other side one probably may guess  
The trouble that perplexed Amanthis thought,  
Since Leoline must Mellefant possess,  
Who might deny him nothing that he sought▪  
And all this by Amanthis must be wrought,  
Who by a kind unkind, and courteous wooing  
Must be the author of her own undoing.   

216.  
But since Amanthis had a promise made  
To further his love-suit in all she might:  
It must be done, therefore she did persuade  
Prince Leoline, in the French tongue to write  
To Mellefant; for what he did indite,  
She said the Princess would show none but her,  
Who was betwixt them both Interpreter.   

217.  
And thereby she should find occasion  
Fitly to speak of Leoline's true love,  
And by a glentle amorous persuasion  
She might all lets (if any were) remove.  
Prince Leoline her council doth approve,  
And writes, who by Amanthis was assured  
An answer to his lines should be procured.   

218.  
Now after courtship and kind compliment,  
And many courteous visits of respect,  
Amanthis came, as if she had been sent  
To Leoline, to tell him the effect  
Of her proceedings (which he did expect)  
And brought a letter with her, which she feigned  
She had from Princess Mellefant obtained.   

219.  
Th'effect whereof was this: she first desired  
It might not seem a lightness in a maid,  
To yield so soon to that which was required  
For Cupid, whose commands must be obeyed,  
Had by her eyes into her heart convaid  
His lovely shape, his worth and every grace,  
Where never man but he had yet a place.   

220.  
But now her amorous bosom was a shrine,  
Devoted wholly to the god of Love,  
In which the Saint was lovely Leoline.  
She writ, That in affection she would prove.  
More constant than the truest turtledove.  
What more, for modesty might not be told,  
She left it to Amanthis to unfold.   

221.  
In fine, Amanthis did the Prince persuade  
So powerfully, that if he pleased, he might  
The maiden Fort of Mellefant invade,  
And enter in that fortress of delight:  
For the Corinna-like, the following night  
Would come unto prince Leoline his bed,  
And offer there her Princely maidenhead.   

222.  
Provided always, when that she did come,  
A promise must be made, might not be broken.  
That they in their embraces should be dumb,  
And that between them no word should be spoken.  
For on the morrow, by a private token,  
He should be sure, so that he would not vaunt,  
He had enjoyed the Princess Mellefant.   

223.  
The Prince, that heard with Joy and admiration  
Amanthis words, impatient of delay,  
On the sun's horses lays an imputation,  
That they were lame, or else had gone astray,  
And Sol in malice had prolonged the day,  
That drove so slowly down Olympus' hill,  
And winged Time he chid for standing still,   

224.  
But at the last the longed-for hour grew near,  
The evening sets, and the steeds of the Sun  
Were posted to the other hemisphere,  
On this side having their last stage yrun,  
Bright things beginning to wax dim and dun,  
And night uprising from dark Acheron,  
O'er all the sky a pitchy veil had thrown.   

225.  
About the hour of twelve, when all was still,  
And Morpheus sealed had all mortal eyes,  
Amanthis, who was ready to fulfil  
Her promise, softly from her bed doth rise,  
And in her smock and a furred-mantle hies  
To Leoline's bed chamber, where in stead  
Of Mellefant, she goes to him to bed.   

226.  
No sooner did they touch each others' skin,  
And she was in his fragrant bosom laid,  
But that the prince loves onset did begin,  
And in his wars the valiant Champion played:  
What faint resistance a young silly maid  
Could make, unto his force, did quickly yield;  
Some blood was lost, although he won the field.   

227.  
For no hot Frenchman, nor high Tuscan blood,  
Whose panting veins do swell with lively heat.  
In Venus' breach more stoutly ever stood,  
Or on her drum did more alarms beat,  
But Cupid at the last sounds a retreat:  
Amanthis at his mercy now doth lie,  
Thinking what kind of death she was to die.   

228.  
But she must now endure no other death,  
For standing mute, but either must be pressed,  
Or smothering kisses so should stop her breath,  
As that love's flames enclosed within her breast,  
Should burn the more, the more they were suppressed,  
And so she as love's Martyr should expire,  
Or phoenixlike, consume in her own fire.   

239.  
These pleasant kind of deaths Amanthis oft  
And willingly did suffer ere 'twas day,  
Nine times the lusty Prince did come aloft:  
But now Amanthis could no longer stay;  
For while 'twas dark she needs must go away:  
On her, Prince Leoline betstowed a ring,  
Man's eye did ne'er behold so rare a thing.   

230.  
For in it was an admirable stone,  
Whose colour (like the Carbuncle) was red,  
By day, it with its native lustre shone,  
And like the Sun-bright beams abroad did spread.  
But that which greatest admiration bred;  
It had a quality ne'er seen before,  
First to keep light, then after to restore.   

231.  
For if one to the sunbeams did expose it,  
And hold it in them but a little space,  
And in a box, would afterwards enclose it,  
Then after go into some darksome place  
Whereas one could not see one's hand, nor face,  
Opening the box, a beam of light would come,  
Pyramid-like, would lighten all the room,   

232.  
But show as gladder of the consequence,  
Than of the precious stone she did receive.  
For now, without suspicion or offence,  
She knew how she might Leoline deceive,  
Whom she at parting from his bed did leave,  
Recounting with himself, how by that deed  
He might as King of Erinland succeed   

233.  
Amanthis being come to her own bed,  
Lay down, but sleep she could not: jealousies  
Concerning Leoline disturbed her head;  
For having now tried his abilities,  
She thought the Prince her sweetness did despise,  
But that he no virillity did want,  
To enjoy his Princely Mistress Mellefant.   

234.  
Oh jealousy in love, who art a vice  
More opposite in every quality,  
Than is penurious sordid avarice,  
To the extreme of prodigality.  
Besides, thou sufferest no man to enjoy  
What he possesses, without some annoy.   

235.  
So many cares, so many doubts and fears  
Upon thee do continually attend,  
As the two portals of the soul, the ears,  
Which to all rumours do attention lend,  
Dire perturbations to the heart do send,  
Procuring such unquiet and unrest,  
As should not harbour in a lover's breast.   

236.  
And to that pass Amanthis thou hast brought,  
With fear of losing that delight and pleasure  
Which she hath tasted, as her troubled thought,  
And perturbations one may rightly measure  
By a rich miser, who hath found a treasure,  
Who is solicitous, and vexed with care,  
Lest any one of it should have a share.   

237.  
Further she thought, if Mellefant but knew  
Prince Leoline to be King Arnons son,  
He needed not his love-suit to pursue,  
For he already had the conquest won.  
Such cogitations in her head did run,  
And with such thoughts she entertained the time,  
Till Sol began Nights starry Arch to climb.   

238.  
But when the feathered herald of the light,  
Stout Chantecleere the cock, with trumpet shrill  
Had now proclaimed darkness was put to flight,  
And Phoebus driving up the Eastern hill,  
With glorious golden beams the world did fill;  
From twixt her sheets as twixt two Groneland snows,  
Amanthis like a new sprung lily rose.   

239.  
And in her page's habit neatly fine,  
Her beauteous self she curiously did dight,  
As if she had not lain with Leoline,  
Nor had not lost her maiden head that night:  
Venus and Cupid pleased were with the sight;  
And how she did Prince Leoline beguile,  
Even made the old austere Saturnus smile.   

240.  
For Jupiter in lovers witty slights,  
Which they contrive and cunningly devise,  
(Himself having been one) so much delights,  
As that he oftentimes with them complies,  
And doth but laugh at lovers perjuries:  
For now Amanthis was a part to act,  
Which to perform, she no invention lacked.   

241.  
For the next morn about the hour of ten,  
To Princess Mellefant she had access,  
Who seeing her, demanded of her, When  
That the French Lord such courtship would express,  
As unto her a visit to address?  
To whom Amanthis said, I am too blame,  
That I no sooner to your highness came,   

242.  
To tell you that it is the Lord's intent,  
(If so it please your highness and the King)  
This night a Masquerado to present,  
Where you shall see him dance, and hear him sing.  
Your answer I again to him must bring,  
Who hopes your highness graciously will take,  
A service only done for your dear sake.   

243.  
He further hopes you'll honour him thus much,  
As to receive this ring, and so to grace it,  
As that it may your princely finger touch,  
On which he humbly prays that you would place it:  
This fair occasion, if you please t'embrace it,  
And cherish it, may the beginning prove  
Of a most happy honourable love.   

244.  
For Madam, his brave parts and excellence,  
Which other men's perfections far outgoes,  
His valour, learning, wit, and eloquence,  
Which like a flood of Nectar from him flows,  
That he is some great Prince most plainly shows:  
And let one presuppose that he were none,  
Yet your most honoured service makes him one.   

245.  
Fair Mellefant, whose breast th' Idalian fire  
Had gently warmed, unto her thus replied:  
Amanthis (quoth she) I do much admire  
How that a stranger can so soon have spied  
An advocate, that cannot be denied,  
Those in their Suits of eloquence have need,  
That seek unjust things, and so fear to speed.   

246.  
But thou who art a young and lovely youth,  
Might'st well have spared that which thou hast said,  
For to converse with thee (such is thy truth)  
A vestal Virgin would not be afraid:  
Thy looks are rhetoric to persuade a maid.  
And be assured, I willingly shall grant  
What ever thou shalt ask of Mellefant.   

247.  
Therefore to him (who as thou sayst) doth seen.  
A noble Prince, this message thou shalt bear:  
Tell him his love we highly do esteem,  
And for his honoured sake the ring I'll wear,  
Which next himself shall be to me most dear▪  
Having thus said, straight to the King she went,  
And for that time broke off her compliment.   

248.  
Now some will say, 'twas too much forwardness  
In Mellefant, that with so small ado,  
She did her love unto the Prince express:  
For bashful maids do let their Suitors woo,  
And that same thing they have most mind unto,  
lest men their maiden coyness should suspect,  
They seem to shun, at leastwise to neglect.   

249.  
But since great Virgil writes, That Dido loved  
At the first sight the wandering Knight of Troy,  
Whose story much more her affections moved,  
Than could the torch of Venus' wanton Boy:  
Let Mellefant, in that she was not coy  
Be blameless, since we by experience find,  
Those women are not fair, that are not kind.   

250.  
For heaven itself, that is a thing most fair,  
While it is gently calm, serene and clear,  
While Zephyrus perfumes the curled air,  
With gladness it the heart of man doth cheer:  
But if it gloomy, dark, and sad appear,  
It never on us mortals showers a storm,  
But blackness doth heavens beauteous face deform.   

251.  
Nor do I say she loved but as a friend,  
Giving the prince a courteous sweet regard,  
Which had not yet so far as love extend,  
Though more for him than other men she cared,  
Her gracious looks were only his reward:  
For why, as yet she only did incline,  
And not resolve, to love Prince Leoline.   

252.  
But time and opportunity of place,  
Which Clerks assign for all things that are done,  
Did consummate within a little space  
That part of love was happily begun.  
The evening now approached, and that day's Sun  
Himself below the Horizon had set,  
And had in Western waves his Chariot wet:   

253  
When as those high supernal Deities  
That all men's actions do foresee and know,  
And do praeside at all solemnities,  
Assembled were to look on things below,  
A Masque before King Dermot, which doth show,  
That 'tis a part of their coestiall mirth,  
To see how men do personate them on earth.   

254.  
In heaven's tenth house, bright honours highest throne,  
On starry studded Arches builded round,  
Great Jupiter the thunderer, bright shoes,  
His brows with beams of radiant lightning crowned:  
Just opposite to him, low under ground  
His melancholy Sire Saturnus old  
Did sit, who never pastimes would behold.   

255.  
Next love sat Mars the fiery god of war,  
In arms of burnished steel completely dight:  
By him Apollo, who had left his care,  
And for a while laid by his robes of light,  
Next him sat Venus' goddess of delight,  
Whose golden hair in curious knots was tied:  
Then Mercury and Luna by his side.   

256.  
With these assembled were those Heroeês,  
Whose fixed lights the eighth sphere do adorn,  
Stormy Orion, and great Hercules,  
With skin from the Naemean Lion torn,  
August's bright Virgin with her care of corn.  
near Berinice combing of her hair,  
Sat Cassiopoea in her starry chair.   

257.  
As these spectators sitting in the skies  
Made Jove's high Palace glorious; even so  
As they cast on King Dermots court their eyes,  
Another heaven they beheld below:  
Such art and cost did Leoline bestow  
Upon the masking scenes, as no expense  
Could add more beauty or magnificence.   

258.  
For to a high and spacious stately room  
Prepared for presentations of delight,  
King Dermot in his royal robes being come,  
Attended on by many a Lord and Knight,  
With his fair daughter Mellesant the bright,  
Where under a rich pearl embroidered State,  
She like a glorious Constellation sat.   

259.  
The Ladies hid with jewels, who had seen  
On Arras covered scaffolds sitting there,  
He would have thought that he so high had been,  
As he at once saw either Hemisphere;  
So like a starry firmament they were,  
And all that space that was below between  
The Hemisphere, looked like the earth in green.   

260.  
For all the floor, whereon the Masquers feet  
Their stately stops in figures were to tread,  
And gracefully to sunder, and to meet,  
A carpet of green cloth did overspread;  
Which seemed an even floury vale, or mead,  
On which the Hyacinth and Narcissus blew  
So naturally were stained, as if they grew:   

161.  
The Violet, Cowslip, and the daffodil,  
The Tulipa, the Primrose, and with them  
The daisy sprung from the green camomile,  
The floury Orchis with it's tender stem,  
The goddess Fora's crown, the meadow's gem,  
Which seemed the Masquers dancing did commend,  
Who trod so light they did not make them bend.   

262.  
More might be said, but let thus much suffice,  
For to say more of flowers but needless were.  
The King being set, and all spectators eyes  
Fixed on the scene, the first thing did appear  
Were clouds, some dusky blue, and some were clear,  
As if it seemed a sky were overcast,  
Which all did vanish, with Favonie's blast.   

263.  
These clouds dispersed, down dropping the May due,  
Aurora rose, crowned with the morning star,  
Four snow white swans her purple chariot drew,  
And gently mounted up her rosy car.  
Next that in perspective was seen from far  
The rolling Ocean, and as there had been  
Waves of a flowing Spring tied coming in.   

264.  
Which as they rolled nearer on the Sand,  
Upon the tumbling billows was descried  
Arion with a golden harp in's hand,  
Who a huge crooked dolphin did bestride,  
And on the dancing waves did bravely ride.  
Before him Tritons, who in shells did blow,  
And were as the loud music to the show.   

265.  
Sea Monsters, who up from the deep were come,  
Presented a delightful antique dance,  
Who on the water's surface nimbly swum,  
Making odd murgeons with their looks askance,  
Sometimes they dive, sometimes they did advance,  
Sometimes they over one another leapt,  
And to the music time exactly kept.   

266.  
Between each dance Arion with his Lyre,  
That with sweet silver sounding chords was strung,  
Sitting in midst of a melodious choir  
Of sixteen Sirens, so divinely sung,  
That all the room with varied echoes rung.  
Arion's part was acted by the Squire,  
Whose singing all that heard him did admire.   

267.  
The music ended, to delight the eye,  
Another scene and spectacle begun,  
For there aloft in a clear azure sky  
Was seen a bright and glorious shining Sun,  
Who to his great Meridian had run,  
O'er whom the asterism was represented  
Of Leo, whose hot breath his flames augmented.   

268.  
Under his beams, as flying o'er the Seas,  
Did Dedalus, and Icarus appear,  
The Sire in the midway did soar at ease,  
But Icarus his son mounting too near,  
His wax-composed wings unfeathered were:  
So headlong to the Sea he tumbled down,  
Whose billows the foolhardy youth did drown.   

169.  
Now the Sea going out, which erst had flowed,  
Did leave a bare and golden yellow sand,  
Whereon rare shells, and orient pearls were strewed,  
Which gathered by twelve Sea Nymphs out of hand,  
In Scallop shells, were brought unto the land  
Unto the King, and Mellefant, as sent  
From him that did Arion represent.   

270.  
The first scene vanishing, and being past,  
And all things gone, as if they had not been,  
The second scene, whereon their eyes they cast,  
Was the Hesperides, with trees all green,  
On which both gold and silver fruits were seen,  
Apollo there amidst the Muses nine  
Sat, personated by Prince Leoline.   

271.  
Who playing on a rare Theorbo Lute,  
The strings his fingers did not only touch,  
But sung so sweet and deep a base unto't,  
As never mortal ear heard any such:  
The Muses did alternately as much,  
To sound of several Instruments, in fine,  
They in one Chorus all together join.   

272.  
Besides them, there was sitting in a grove  
The shepherd's god Pan, with his pipe of reed,  
Who far the mastery with Apollo strove,  
Whether in music's practice did exceed.  
Between them both, King Midas, who decreed  
That Pan in skill Apollo did surpass,  
Had for his meed two long ears of an ass.   

273.  
These with ten Satyrs danced an antique round  
With Volta's, and a Saraband: which ended,  
They suddenly all sunk into the ground,  
And with Apollo they no more contended.  
Thus done, he and his Muses down descended  
From their sweet rosy Arbours, which did twin  
The honeysuckle and sweet Jessemin.   

274.  
The stately Grand-Ballet Apollo led,  
Wherein most curious figures were expressed,  
Upon the floury carpet as they tread,  
The Muses in fine antique habit dressed,  
Unto their nimble feet do give no rest,  
But in neat figures they the letters frame  
Of Mellefants, and of King Dermots name.   

275.  
This done, the Muses like nine Ladies clad  
(For so they did appear unto the eye)  
Their antique habits changed, and as they had  
Been metamorphosed, they suddenly  
Their neat disguise of women did put by,  
And like to nine young gallants did appear,  
The comeliest youths, that in Eblana were.   

276.  
The Prince too putting off his masking suit,  
Apollo representing now no more,  
His habit gave, his vizor, ivory Lute  
To pages, that sweet Cedar torches bore,  
Appearing now a Prince as heretofore,  
Who with the nine young gallants went about  
New dances, and to take the Ladies out.   

277.  
Now as the Prince did gracefully present  
Himself to Mellefant, it did betide  
As he did kiss her hand in compliment,  
Upon her finger he the ring espied  
He gave in bed, which to her wrist was tied  
With a black ribbon, as if she did fear  
To lose a jewel she did prize so dear.   

278.  
Prince Leoline assured was by that ring,  
That he with Princess Mellefant had lain,  
Whereas indeed there ne'er was such a thing;  
Such was his courage he could not refrain  
To court the Princess in an amorous strain:  
For while he danced with her, his eyes expressed  
Those flames of love that burned within his breast.   

279.  
But now it growing late, and night far spent,  
The Bransles being danced, the revels ended,  
The Prince's Masque did give all eyes content,  
Who by King Dermot highly was commended,  
On whom both he and Masquers all attended,  
Who to a stately room were forthwith guided,  
Whereas a sumptuous banquet was provided.   

280.  
Which being finished, the late hour of night  
Required, that all the company should part,  
Prince Leoline adjourn must his delight  
Until next day, for now his amorous hart  
Was quite shot through with Cupid's golden dart:  
Nor could he pleasure or contentment want;  
Who thought he enjoyed the beauteous Mellefant.   
Explicit Pars Tertia.   


281.  
The Crescent-crowned Empress of the flood  
Had veiled thrice her face from mortals sight,  
And having thrice in opposition stood  
Unto her brother, borrowed thrice his light  
Since that auspicious happy pleasant night,  
That beautiful Amanthis first had been  
A bedfellow unto Prince Leoline.   

282.  
But well away, for like a man that stands  
With unsure footing on the slippery ice,  
Or one that builds a house upon the sands,  
Such is this world's joy: Fortune in a trice  
Can alter so the chances of the dice,  
Our clearest day of mirth ere it be past,  
With clouds of sorrow oft is overcast.   

283.  
And now alas quite altered is the scene  
From joy to sadness, and from weal to woe;  
The purblind goddess Fortune knows no mean,  
For either she must raise or overthrow:  
Our joy no sooner to the height doth grow,  
But either it is taken quite away,  
Or like a withering flower it doth decay.   

284.  
Oh you sad daughters of dark night and hell,  
You Furies three, that shunning of the light,  
Among the buried worlds pale people dwell,  
And guilty consciences with ghosts affright,  
Assistants be to that I now must write  
A lecto with thy dim blue burning brand,  
Lend fatal light to guide my trembling hand:   

285.  
For cheerful daylight will not lend a beam,  
My tear downe-dropping dreary quill to guide,  
By which that may be read, which now's my theme  
In dusky clouds the Sun his face will hide,  
And to behold these lines will not abide,  
For they will make the rosy blushing morrow  
Look deadly pale, to see Amanthis sorrow.   

286.  
For why, it fortuned so, that the next day  
After the Masque and Revels all were done,  
That Leoline as fresh as flowers in may,  
To prosecute that victory he had won,  
And finish that was happily begun,  
Unto the Princess Mellefant he went,  
His love and humble service to present.   

287.  
Whom happily he found (his luck was snch  
Through his kind favovoring stars) sitting alone  
Upon an imbrocated tissue couch,  
Enriched with pearl and many a precious stone:  
As then attendants near her there was none  
Save only fair Amanthis, who had been  
Discoursing to her of Prince Leoline.   

288.  
Who seeing him, rose whence that she was set,  
And he with low obeisance kissed her hand:  
My Lord, Quoth Mellefant, since we are met  
If'twere my happiness to understand  
The French, that I might know what you command,  
And that we two together might confer,  
Without Amanthis our interpreter.   

289.  
The Prince upon the couch set by her side,  
Making his face more lovely with a smile,  
In her own language to her thus replied,  
Madam (quoth he) 'twere pity to beguile  
You any longer, for though all this while  
I seemed a Frenchman; yet truth shall evince,  
That I your faithful servant am a Prince.   

290.  
Fair Mellefant with sudden joy surprised,  
A rosy blush her dainty cheeks did stain,  
My Lord (quoth she) although you lived disguised,  
How is it, that so soon you did obtain  
Our British tongue? He answered her again,  
Madam (quoth he) causes must not be sought  
Of miracles by your rare beauty wrought.   

291.  
But wonder not, for though King Dermots throne  
Is severed by green Nereus' briny maine  
From the firm British continent, yet one  
Are both the laws and language those retain,  
O'er whom the King of Erinland doth reign,  
And those, who great King Arnon do obey,  
Who doth the old Symerian sceptre sway.   

292.  
Whose kingdom all those provinces contains  
Between swift Deva's streams upon the East,  
Who tumbling from the hills frets through the plains,  
And great Saint George's channel on the West,  
Where the fierce Ordovices, and the rest  
Of the ne'er conquered warlike Britons bold,  
In hills, and caves their habitations hold.   

293.  
Nor hath his spacious kingdom there an end,  
But from the stormy Northern ocean's shore,  
Unto the fall of Dovy doth extend,  
Whose springs from highest mountains falling o'er  
Steep rocks, like Nile's loud Catadups do roar,  
Whose crystal streams along the river's brink  
The stout Dimetae, and Silures drink.   

294.  
Whose Ancestors after Deucalion's flood,  
First peop●ed Erinland long time agone,  
Whose offspring is derived from Brittous blood,  
And is thereof but an extraction:  
Now both these Nations may again be one;  
And since they are derived from one stem,  
They may be joined in one Diadem.   

295.  
If you, most fair of Princesses, shall deign  
A kind alliance with the British crown,  
And in your bed and bosom entertain  
A Lover that shall add to your renown:  
For such a noble match will make it known  
For an undoubted truth, that Prince's hands  
Do not alone join hearts, but unite lands.   

296.  
To this the beauteous Mellefant replied,  
And sed, fair Prince, were the election mine,  
Your noble motion should not be denied:  
For little rhetoric would suffice t'encline  
A Lady to affect Prince Leoline.  
Few words persuade a heart already bent  
To amorous thoughts, to give a fit consent.   

297.  
But my choice is not totally my own,  
Wherein we Princes are unfortunate:  
Fit Suitors to us there are few or none;  
We must be ruled by reasons of the state,  
Which must our lives and actions regulate:  
The country maids are happier than we,  
To whom the choice of many swains is free.   

298.  
But we must woo by picture, and believe,  
For all the inward beauties of the mind,  
Such lineaments the painters colours give:  
We ought be physiognomers, to find  
Whether the soul be well or ill inclined:  
Besides, when kingdoms do ally as friends,  
They know no love, nor kindred, but for ends.   

299.  
Yet I have had the happiness to see  
And to converse with you, wherein I am  
More fortunate than other Princes be,  
Seeing your person ere I knew your name:  
And now your virtues, greater than your fame,  
Needs not the treaties of ambassadors,  
To make the heart of Mellefant all yours.   

300.  
Only my father's leave must be obtained,  
Ere we our nuptial rites do celebrate,  
Whose liking and consent when you have gained,  
(Wherein I wish you may be fortunate)  
You are his kingdom's heir, and this whole state  
Shall do you homage, and the race that springs  
From us, shall reign in Erinland as Kings,   

301.  
And rule those ancient Scepts, which heretofore  
Had sovereign power, and petit Princes were  
The great O Neale, O Dannell and O More  
O rock, O Hanlon, and the fierce Macquere,  
Mac Mahon erst begotten of a bear,  
Among those woods not pierced by summer's Sun,  
Where the swift Shenan, and clear Lessy run.   

302.  
Under those shades the tall grown kern, content  
With Shamrockes and such cates the woods afford,  
Seeks neither after meat, nor condiment,  
To store his smoky Coshery, or board,  
But clad in trousers, mantle, with a sword  
Hanged in a weyth, his feltered glib sustains  
Without a hat, the weather, when it rains.   

303.  
The Lordly Tanist with his Skene and Durke,  
Who placeth all felicity in ease,  
And hardly gets his lazy churls to work,  
Who rather chose to live as Saluages,  
Than with their garoones to break up the Lease  
Of fertile fields, but do their ploughshares tie  
To horses tails, a barbarous husbandry.   

304.  
But as it is foretold in prophecies,  
Who writ on barks of trees, a maiden Queen  
Hereafter Erinland shall civilize,  
And quite suppress those savage rites have been  
Amongst us, as they never had been seen:  
This Queen must of the British blood descend,  
Whose fame unto the world's poles shall extend.   

305.  
Who reigning long, her sex's brightest glory,  
All after ages ever shall admire:  
True virtues everlasting Type and story,  
Who then her, when it can ascend no higher,  
She like a virgin Phoenix shall expire.  
And if old wizards ancient saws be true,  
This royal Princess must ascend from you.   

306.  
Who hath observed the gentle Western wind,  
And seen the fragrant budding damask rose,  
How that it spreads and opens, he will find  
When Zephyrus calm breath upon it blows,  
Even so the Prince's heart one may suppose  
Dilated was with joy within his breast,  
Hearing the speeches Mellefant expressed.   

307.  
To whom with looks and countenance debonair,  
He only made this short, but sweet reply:  
Madam (quoth he) were not you the most fair  
That ever hath been famed in history,  
Or shall be seen by late posterity,  
There might remain a hope, that there might be  
An age hereafter happier than we.   

308.  
But since that you are nature's paragon  
Not by herself e'er to be paralleled,  
Since heaven's, the ring, and you the precious stone,  
Yet never equaled, therefore not excelled,  
Those happy eyes that have your form beheld,  
Must close themselves in darkness, and despair  
Of ever seeing one so heavenly fair.   

309.  
For when to liberal Nature she had spent  
The quintessence of all her precious store,  
To make one glorious Phoenix, her intent  
Perchance was to have formed two, or more  
But wanting of materials she forbore:  
So is she now enforced not to make two  
Such as yourself, but by dissolving you.   

310.  
Therefore that glorious Queen of all perfection,  
That is foretold in after times to reign,  
Will be but of yourself a recollection:  
Who Aeson-like, will be revived again;  
For your divinest parts will still remain  
Unmixed, and the uniting of your frame  
Will alter nothing of you, but your name.   

311.  
For as a sovereign Prince doth honour give  
To's presence chamber, though he be not there;  
So you, though for a while you do not live  
On earth, but in some bright celestial sphere,  
Yet is your presence chamber everywhere,  
For that it is the whole world here below,  
To which your servants do obeisance owe.   

312.  
This interchange of courtship twixt these lovers  
Continued till the day was well near spent,  
And Venus setting in the West, discovers  
The path and track where Phoebus' chariot went.  
To get King Dermots fatherly consent,  
Was now the only business to be done,  
To consummate those joys that were begun.   

313.  
But O you weird stern fatal Sisters three,  
O Lachesis, that mortals threads dost twine!  
O influence of stars, that causes be,  
Though not compulsive, yet our wills incline:  
You yet disclose not to Prince Leoline,  
Of this his forward love the sad event,  
Nor of his match the strong impediment.   

314.  
For now Amanthis either must oppose  
His marriage, for by her it must be crossed,  
And consequently must herself disclose,  
Or she is utterly undone, and lost.  
Thus like a ship twixt wind and tide sore tossed,  
Not knowing how to take about or veer,  
She wanted skill to wield the stern or steer.   

315.  
For first she thought such was the Prince's truth,  
As that he would rejoice that he had found  
Amanthus retransformed from a youth  
To Sydanis, whom he believed was drowned,  
With double joys their hearts should now be crowned,  
For all the bitterness they both did taste,  
Should with contentment sugared be at last.   

316.  
And though we be no better for delight  
That's done and gone, nor yet the worse for pain:  
When it is past, no more than is the sight,  
For glorious species, which it did retain:  
Or ear for hearing some harsh music strain,  
The present being that, which we enjoy,  
Whether it be of pleasure, or annoy.   

317.  
Yet as in dreams the memory suggests  
Unto the fantasy things that have been,  
But are no more, so a remembrance rests  
In her, of all her anguish and her Teen;  
And of those sorrowful days that she had seen,  
Which like a fearful dream once passed o'er  
That 'twas not true makes her rejoice the more.   

318.  
For she not knowing of the fascination  
Was practised on the Prince in's marriage bed,  
Might think an over strong imagination,  
Sending venereal spirits to the head,  
Had left the part of generation dead,  
Too much desire in love being oft a let  
And makes that fall, which men upright would set.   

319.  
But passing that, the Princess having tried  
With Leoline, whom she so oft beguiled,  
Completely all the pleasures of a bride,  
And by him being young conceived with child,  
She thought she should be fully reconcyled  
Unto King Arnon, when it did appear  
That Leoline and she both living were:   

320.  
And that the war King Arnon had begun,  
(Of which she had but lately heard) should cease  
She bringing to him a young Prince, a son,  
And all should be concluded with a peace,  
Before their two old parents did decease.  
These pleasant thoughts, like shapes seen in a gl●●●●  
Set in a street, through her clear soul did pass.   

321.  
But as in March the Sun then shining fair,  
Is often by the South wind's stormy blast,  
Chasing the clouds, and troubling the air,  
With black and gloomy curtains overcast,  
Which longer than serenity doth last,  
So some sad thoughts o'erspread Amanthis soul,  
Which all her thoughts of pleasure did control.   

322.  
For to declare herself she was afeard,  
To be the consort of the Prince's bed,  
Since she should cross herself, who had averred  
To Leoline, that Sydanis was dead,  
And so for lying should be censured,  
Or should as an Imposter be accused,  
Who with false shows had all the Court abused.   

323.  
Besides, this circumstance augments her fear,  
If she should say she from Carleon fled,  
She must discover what had happened there,  
She knew no other but her Nurse was dead,  
For whom her life might well be questioned,  
And therefore in this case it her behoved,  
To say something that might not be disproved.   

324.  
But she not knew nor ship, nor Prince's name  
Pretended to be shipwrect, nor could give  
Account how she unto Eblana came,  
So probably that men might her believe:  
This exigent her very soul did grieve,  
That she must say it with a serious brow,  
That she was come, and yet could not tell how.   

325.  
Besides, she did imagine if she said  
She was Duke Leon's daughter, none did know  
Her to be such, and being now no maid,  
Though formerly the Prince had left her so,  
When from her bridal bed he meant to go,  
Though she assumed Sydanis her name,  
The Prince might think her like, yet not the same.   

326.  
Or presuppose Prince Leoline did know  
That she was Sydanis, yet having set  
His love on Mellefant, he might not show  
That he did know her, and so she might get  
The reputation of a counterfeit:  
Besides, she coming closely to his bed,  
She could not prove he got her maidenhead.   

327.  
Moreover if all truths should be disclosed,  
And things known really; which she did fain,  
That all this while Prince Leoline supposed  
That he with Princess Mellefant had lain:  
For such a foul aspersion, and a stain  
Cast on her honour, (although not intended)  
Fair Mellefant might justly be offended.   

328.  
And so on every side perplexed and grieved,  
She of all liars should have the reward,  
As when they speak truth not to be believed,  
She could not easily mend what she had marred,  
Thus with the woeful Sydanis it fared,  
Who trusting overmuch to her disguise,  
Falls by it into these calamities.   

329.  
O aged father, Times fair daughter Truth,  
Of all divine intelligences best,  
What Sages erst have said of thee is sooth,  
Thou hast a window made in thy white breast,  
And art most lovely when thou art undressed.  
Thou seek'st no corners thy bright self to hide,  
Nor blushest though thou naked art espied.   

330.  
Thou needest not a fucus or disguise,  
To cover thee thou puttest on no new fashion,  
Nor with false semblance dost deludemen eyes,  
Like thy base zany damned equivocation,  
Thou want'st no comment, not interpretation,  
And for maintaining thee, though men be blamed  
And suffer for a while, yet ne'er art shamed.   

331.  
Yet what thou art must not always be told,  
For'tis convenient thou thyself shouldst hide,  
Till thy old Sire thy beauties do unfold:  
Then as pure gold upon the touchstone tried,  
That finers hottest furnace doth abide,  
Or like a palm tree thou dost flourish best,  
When thou hast been by ignorance suppressed.   

332.  
And so although necessity required  
That truth of things should now be brought to light,  
That period of time was not expired,  
Wherein this Lady Sydanis the bright  
Should show herself, for which she often sight,  
Who now with showers of tears her eyes had made,  
As if two Suns in watery clouds did wade.   

333.  
But as the lily when as Bartholomew,  
Summers' last Saint, hath ushered in the frost,  
Wet, with the long nights cold, and chilly dew,  
Her luster and her verdure both are lost,  
And seems to us as she were dead almost:  
So grief and sorrow quickly did impair  
The lovely face of Sydanis the fair.   

334.  
Who weeps away her eyes in pearly showers,  
Raised by her sighs, as by a Southern wind,  
She prays to Venus and the heavenly powers,  
That they in their high providence would find  
Some means to ease her sad and troubled mind:  
And though despair unto the height was grown,  
She might enjoy that yet, which was her own.   

335.  
Her prayers are heard, for the next dawning day  
Prince Leoline, and Mellefant both went  
(True love not brooking any long delay)  
Unto King Dermot, with a full intent  
To ask and get his fatherly consent.  
These Prince's loves on wings of hope did fly,  
That the King neither could, or would deny.   

336.  
But their design they brought to no effect,  
Being commenced in an unlucky hour,  
No planet being in his course direct,  
And Satutne who his children doth devour  
From his north-east dark Adamantine tower  
Beheld the waning moon and retrograde,  
A time unfit for such affairs had made.   

337.  
They should have made election of a day  
Was fortunate, and fit to speak with Kings,  
When the King's planet, Sol's propitious ray,  
Who great affairs to a wished period brings,  
And is predominant in all such things;  
When Jupiter aspecting with the Trine,  
His daughter Venus did benignly shine.   

338.  
This was the cause proceeding from above,  
Which Clerks do call inevitable fate  
That was the hindrance of these Prince's love,  
And made them in their Suit unfortunate:  
But yet their was another cause of state,  
Which was so main an obstacle and let,  
That they the King's consent could never get.   

339.  
For that ambassador which lieger lay,  
Sent to Eblana in King Albion's name,  
Who as you heard was feasted that same day  
That to the Court Prince Leoline first came,  
And Mellefant conceived her amorous flame,  
A treaty of a marriage had begun  
For, her with Prince Androgios, Albion's son;   

340.  
And had so far advanced it, that the King  
With all his privy counsels approbation,  
Had condescended unto every thing  
That might concern the weal of either nation;  
For this alliance would lay a foundation  
Of a firm future peace, and would put down  
That enmity was erst twixt either crown.   

341.  
And now the time prefixed was come so near  
Th'Embassadour had got intelligence,  
Within ten days Androgios would be there  
In person, his own love-suit to commence,  
And consummate with all magnificence  
His marriage, and perform those nuptial rites  
Wherein bright Cyntherea so delights.   

242.  
This weighed, King Dermot could not condescend,  
Nor give way to Prince Leoline's affection,  
Unless he should Andragios offend,  
Who now of his alliance made election,  
The breach whereof might cause an insurrection  
Among his people, if that they should see  
Him break a King's word, which should sacred be.   

343.  
And now although Prince Leoline repented,  
He ever love to Mellefant professed,  
Yet because no man should go discontented  
From a great King, he as a Princely guest  
Was used with all the noblest, fairest, best  
Respects of courtesy, and entertained  
While that he in King Dermots Court remained.   

344.  
But like to one that's into prison cast,  
Though he enjoy both of the eye and ear,  
All choicest objects, and although he taste  
Ambrosial cates; yet while that he is there  
Wanting his liberty, which is most dear,  
He nothing relishes, for nothing cares,  
Even so now with Prince Leoline it fares.   

345.  
Who now disconsolate, and being barred,  
All hopes of marrying Mellefant the fair,  
Missing that aim he nothing did regard,  
And since he must not be King Dermots heir,  
He thought that nought that damage could repair,  
Himself as one he captivate deemed,  
And Dermots Court to him a prison seemed.   

346.  
Now as a tempest from the Sea doth rise,  
Within his mind arose this stormy thought,  
How that the Princess justly might despise  
His cowardice, who by all means had sought  
To win her love, if he not having fought  
A combat with Androgios, he should go  
Or steal away from her that loved him so.   

347.  
Although to fight, no valour he did want,  
Nor wished a nobler way his life to end,  
If vanquished he should lose both Mellefant  
And he King Dermot highly should offend,  
Who all this while had been his royal friend,  
Love well begun should have a bad conclusion,  
And kindness find an unkind retribution.   

348.  
But more, if he should secretly attempt  
By means to take King Dermots life away,  
Nothing his guilty conscience would exempt  
From terror that so foully would betray,  
Fowls of the air such treason would bewray:  
For ravens by their croaking would disclose  
(Pecking the earth) such horrid acts as those.   

349.  
If he with Mellefant away should steal,  
And carry her where they might not be found,  
Yet time at last such secrets would reveal:  
For by that act he should her honour wound.  
Who for her modesty had been renowned,  
And he than Paris should no better speed,  
Of whose sad end you may in Dares read.   

350.  
One while in him these noble thoughts had place,  
Which did reflect on honourable fame:  
Another while he thought how that in case  
He stole away, men could not him more blame,  
Then erst Aeneas, who had done the same  
To Dido, and that very course had taken,  
Leaving the lovely Carthage Queen forsaken.   

351.  
Injurious story, which not only servest  
To keep the names of Heroes from rust,  
But in thy brazen register preserv'st  
The memories, and acts of men unjust,  
Which otherwise had been buried with their dust,  
But for thy black dark soul there no man had  
Examples to avoid for what is bad.   

352.  
For had it not in Annals been recorded,  
That Theseus from the Minotaur was freed  
By Ariadne, time had not afforded  
A precedent for such a horrid deed,  
For when King Minos daughter had agreed  
To steal away with him his beauteous theft,  
A sleep on Naxos deserts rocks he left.   

353.  
An act deserving hells black imprecation  
So cruel, that it cannot be expressed  
To leave a Princely Lady in such fashion,  
That had received him to her bed and breast,  
All after ages should this fact detest:  
For this his treason rendered him all o'er,  
A greater monster than the Minotore.   

354.  
Returning home to Greece he had not taught  
Demophon, by fair Phaedra his false son,  
When he had King Lycurgus daughter brought  
Unto his bow, and her affection won,  
Perfidiously away from her to run,  
Leaving fair Phillis, and so caused that she  
Did hang herself upon an Almond tree.   

355.  
Yet these examples scarce moved Leoline,  
And scarce his resolution changed at all  
For Mellefant, for he could not divine,  
If she by tasting sorrows bitterest gall,  
Upon the sharp point of a sword should fall:  
Or Phillis like impatient of delay,  
Would with a halter make herself away.   

356.  
It may be she like Ariadne might  
(Though she her Virgin bloom had Theseus given)  
Marry god Bacchus, and her tresses bright  
Be afterward exalted up to heaven,  
There for to shine among the planets seven:  
For justice is not so severe and strict  
As death on all offenders to inflict.   

357.  
Besides he did remember, should he look  
On authors, he should many women find,  
That had their loves, and paramours forsook,  
And proved to them unconstant, and unkind.  
'Mongst other stories he did call to mind,  
That of the fairy Creseid, who instead  
Of faithful Troilus loved false Diomed.   

358.  
And if there were as many women found  
As men, in love unconstant, and untrue,  
He thought, that he in conscience was not bound  
To render love for love, but while 'twas due,  
And so might leave an old love for a new,  
Besides he thought Androgios might be  
A braver, and a comelier man than he.   

359.  
And being higher both in birth and place  
Than he, and heir to a more ancient crown,  
He thought that Mellefant in such a case  
Will do like women, all prefer their own  
Pre-eminence, precedence, and renown,  
And so she in a short time would forget,  
All that affection she on him had set.   

360.  
And as for Prince Androgios, though he could  
Have wished he had not Mellefant defiled,  
With whom he thought that he had been too bold:  
Yet if 'twere so, that she was not with child,  
The Prince as other men might be beguiled,  
As surfling water, or such art might hide  
Secrets by Midwives not to be descried.   

361.  
And therefore he resolved not to fight,  
Unless Androgios challenged him, for so  
Such privacies he thought might come to light,  
That were unfit for any man to know.  
He therefore did determine he would go  
Unto Carnarvan, and there would abide,  
Till fortune showed what after should betide.   

362.  
Our purpose, and things which we intend,  
Have not subsistence of themselves alone,  
For on the heavenly powers they do depend  
As the earth gives birth to every seed is sown,  
Which after to maturity is grown:  
For stars not only form all our intents,  
But shape the means to further the events.   

363.  
For now to further this his resolution,  
Those stars, which at his birth benignly shone  
In his first house, by annual revolution,  
Unto his mirth, the house of dreams was gone,  
Of journeys, and peregrination  
Significator, and the moon now new,  
To Phoebus' bosom her dark-self withdrew.   

364.  
All this conspired to further a design  
Which Sydanis resolved to put in act,  
For understanding by Prince Leoline  
That there had never been any contract  
twixt him and Mellefant, she nothing lacked  
But some fine neat device, whereof the doing  
Should be the cause of Leoline's speedy going.   

365.  
For he once being from Eblana gone,  
It was her resolution and intent  
(In claim of that which justly was her own)  
To follow him where ever that he went,  
All thoughts of future marriage to prevent,  
For rather than endure such storms as those  
She had abide, herself she would disclose.   

366.  
And thus it happed when from the frozen North  
Night and her consort dull dew dropping sleep  
Arose, and drowsy Morpheus had let forth  
Fantastic dreams which he in caves doth keep,  
When mortals all their cares in Let he steep,  
And darkness with Cimmerian foggy damp,  
Extinguished for a while heaven's glorious lamp.   

367.  
What time the silent hours their wheels had driven  
Over the sable clouds of dusky night,  
And were arrived as high as the mid heaven,  
Dividing from the Hemisphere of light,  
The other half in robes of darkness dight:  
As Leoline lay sleeping in his bed,  
A pleasant vision did possess his head.   

368.  
He dreamed he saw Duke Leon's Palace, where  
There was all pomp and bravery expressed,  
All objects might delight the eye, or ear  
With preparation for a sumptuous feast,  
Which unto Coelums honour was addressed.  
For in a Temple, that was high and wide,  
He thought he first Duke Leon had descried.   

369.  
Kneeling he seemed by the high Altars side  
With eyes uncast, and hands to heaven upspread,  
All which the Duke devoutly having eyed,  
High in the clouds appeared over head  
Jove's mighty Eagle carrying Ganymede,  
Who gently down descending from above,  
Did seem as sent unto the Duke from Jove.   

370.  
Lighting upon the ground the Eagle set  
Her lovely load, in presence of the Duke,  
Which eftsoons did a wonder strange beget,  
For while he steadfastly did on it look,  
The person that for Ganymede he took,  
Was Sydanis his daughter, and so seemed  
Unto the sleeping Prince, who of her dreamed.   

371.  
From whom as now the Eagle was to part,  
And touring to return up to the skies,  
She suddenly seized on Sydanis her heart,  
And having rent it out away she flies,  
This sight with such a horror did surprise  
The sleeping Prince, that every member quakes,  
And in a cold sweat Leoline awakes.   

372.  
Awaked with fear Prince Leoline beheld  
A stranger and a far more ominous sight,  
Which all his dream and fantasies expelled,  
For by his bed side in a glimmering light  
Stood Sydanis in fairy habit dight,  
To whom she did a low obeisance make,  
And afterwards to this effect she spoke.   

373.  
Illustrious Prince (quoth she) whom various Fate,  
Guiding the helm of thy affairs in love,  
Did first make happy, then unfortunate,  
Yet at the last to thee will constant prove,  
And will eftsoons those errors all remove,  
Which heretofore have been, or else may be,  
Impediments to thy felicity.   

374.  
Fate wils not that thou longer shouldst remain  
In false belief, thy Sydanis is dead,  
Or that thou with fair Mellefant hast lain,  
Or hast enjoyed her virgin-Maidenhead.  
'Twas I by night came to thee in her stead,  
Who am a Fairy, an Inhabitant  
Of another world, for 'twas not Mellefant.   

375.  
For twixt the centre and circumference  
Of this great Globe of earth (Prince) thou shalt know  
There is another fairy world, from whence  
We through the earth, as men through air, do go  
Without resistance passing to and fro,  
Having nor Sun, nor moon, but a blue light,  
Which makes no difference twixt our day and night.   

376.  
In this our world there is not a thing here,  
Upon this globe of earth, man, woman, tree,  
Plant, herb, or flower, but just the same is there▪  
So like it hardly can distinguished be,  
Either in colour, or in shape, for we  
Are all ayeriall Phantoms, and are framed,  
As Pictures of you, and are fairies named.   

377.  
And as you mortals we participate  
Of all the like affections of the mind.  
We joy, we grieve, we fear, we love, we hate,  
And many times forsaken our own kind,  
We are in league with mortals so combined,  
As that in dreams we lie with them by night,  
Begetting children, which do Changelings hight.   

378.  
To those we love, and in whom we take pleasure  
From Diamantine chests we use to bring  
Gold, Jewels, and whole heaps of fairy treasure,  
Sums that may be the ranson of a King,  
On those we hate, we many times do fling  
Blindness, and lameness, that unhallowed go  
To crop of fairy branch the mistletoe.   

379.  
Amongst us is thy Sydanis, of whom  
I am the Genius, for erst so it chanced,  
As flying from Carleon, she did come,  
And too near to our fairy rounds advanced,  
Whereas at midnight we the fairies danced;  
King Oberon straight seized her as his prey,  
As Pluto erst took Proserpina away:   

380.  
And carrying her down to fairy land,  
Hath on a downy Couch laid her to sleep,  
With Orange blossoms strewed, with a command,  
Queen Mab, and all her Elves should safe her keep,  
Till thou repassing o'er the briny deep,  
Shalt to King Arnon thy old Sire return,  
Whom causeless thou so long hast made to mourn▪   

381.  
Which if thou do not instantly perform,  
Black Elves shall pinch thee, Goblins shall affright  
Thy restless soul; at Sea an hideous storm,  
With deaths black darkness, shall thy days benight.  
Having thus said, that borrowed beam of light,  
Which as you heard did from the stone arise,  
Vanished, and hid her from the Prince's eyes.   

382.  
Who now believing he had seen an elf,  
A messenger by Oberon employed,  
He forthwith rose, and eftsoons dressed himself  
(The better all suspicion to avoid)  
In a black habit of his Squire Ffloyd,  
And e'er the Sun touched the East Horizon,  
Putting to Sea, he out of ken was gone.   
Explicit pars quarta.   


383.  
ANd now old Saturn, whom Clerks Chronos call,  
Of nature cold and dry, of motion slow,  
Author of all misfortunes, that befall  
To men and their affairs, malignant so,  
Was shortly from his Apoge to go,  
To his exile, and Jove was to ascend,  
And so these lovers troubles all should end.   

384.  
Benign bright King of stars, who hast forsook  
Juno, the stately Consort of thy bed,  
And downe-descending to the earth, hast took  
Strange shapes, of mortals being enamoured,  
Who were not only metamorphosed  
By thee, but taken up into the skies,  
And shining, sit amongst the Deities;   

385.  
Hasten thy rising to thy glorious Throne,  
And sitting on thy saphired Arch in state,  
Look on those Princes that have undergone  
The dire effects of thy stern father's hate,  
Which, as thou art a King, commiserate,  
And when that thou hast ended every thing,  
My Muse unto this stories period bring.   

386.  
For yet the storm is not quite overpast,  
Nor suddenly will all these troubles end:  
With Saturn's frowns the heaven is overcast,  
And clouds of sorrow, showers of tears portend:  
For while that Leoline his course doth bend,  
And is arrived at Carnarvans' port,  
The scene of woe lies in King Dermots Court.   

387.  
For now no sooner did the rosy morn,  
(Which summons drowsy Mortals from their rest)  
Her dewy locks in Thetis glass adorn,  
And Phoebus' steeds in flaming trappings dressed,  
From the low North, ascended up the East,  
But it through all the Court was forthwith known,  
How that Prince Leoline away was gone.   

388.  
Of which a messenger did tidings bring  
To Sydanis, and Princess Mellefant:  
Who forthwith did relate them to the King:  
Who of his goings cause being ignorant,  
Affirmed, that he civility did want,  
Who did so many courtesies receive,  
And went away without taking his leave.   

389.  
Wonder possessed King Dermots royal heart  
With much regret, the Prince should leave him so:  
But Mellefant, she acts another part,  
Of doubtful sorrow in this scene of woe,  
For after him she was resolved to go:  
And under the black veil of the next night  
She did determine for to take her flight.   

390.  
The very same fair Sydanis intends,  
Who in Eblana would no longer stay:  
Having on Leoline now had her ends,  
Glad that her Princely Lord was gone away,  
Too long and wearisome she thought the day:  
And blamed as slow the russins of the Sun,  
That towards the West they did no faster run.   

391.  
But at the last, night with a fable robe,  
Rising from Tenarus her dark abode,  
O'erspread this half of th'universall globe,  
Making the wolf, bat, screech-owl, and the road,  
(The haters of the light) to come abroad,  
When, wearied with his work the day before,  
The heavy ploughman doth at midnight snore.   

392.  
Now Mellefant and Sydanis, who had  
To fly away that night the same intent;  
That like a page, this like a ship-boy clad,  
The better all suspicion to prevent,  
As they were wont unto their beds they went▪  
When as a gentle sleep did soon surprise  
Fair Sydanis, and closed her dovelike eyes.   

393.  
But Mellefant, whose eyes and heart received  
No dull impressions of the night, nor rest,  
To Sydanis bedside stole unperceived,  
And got away the page's Suit; so dressed,  
Therein she fled away, for that she guest,  
That for the Prince's page she should be taken,  
That had of late King Dermots Court forsaken.   

394.  
Passing the corpse de guard the watch did keep,  
And place where Master Constable still sat,  
(For they were all most cordially asleep)  
She forthwith came unto the city gate,  
And by the porter was let out thereat,  
Passing unquestioned, for when as she said  
She was the Prince's page, she was not stayed.   

395.  
Come to the key, where ships at anchor ride,  
An unexpected spectacle befalls,  
For on the shrouds of a tall ship she spied  
Two lights, that seemed like two round fiery balls,  
Aereal twins, the which the Seaman calls  
Castor and Pollux, who bee'ng seen together,  
Portend a happy voyage, and fair weather.   

396.  
But if that only one of them appears  
Upon the hallyards of the ship, or masts,  
It is an ominous osse the Seaman fears,  
If not of shipwreck, yet of gusts and blasts:  
While she beheld, one of the balls downe-casts  
Itself from the main yard upon the shore,  
And as a walking fire went on before.   

397.  
This apparition somewhat terrified  
The Princess, who had now no power to go  
Elsewhere, but follow her fantastic guide,  
And thus as they had wandered to and fro,  
About the time that the first cock did crow,  
They came unto a woody hill, so high,  
The top did seem to gore the starry sky.   

398.  
For like Olympus he did lift his head  
Above the middle region of the air,  
Where thunders, hail, and meteors are bred:  
For there the weather evermore was fair:  
Unto the top hereof this wandering pair  
Being arrived, by many a passage steep,  
The wearied Princess was cast in a sleep,   

399.  
On strowings laid, of never-fading flowers,  
Which on this hills serenest top had grown,  
She in sweet dreams did pass the silent hours,  
Upon her a light coverlet was thrown,  
Made of the Peaches soft and gentle down:  
Whom there I leave in no less great a bliss  
Than was the sorrow of fair Sydanis.   

400.  
Who having over-slept herself, did wake  
But half an hour before the break of day;  
To dress herself she all the speed did make,  
Herself in Skippers habit to array,  
And towards the port she forthwith takes her way:  
But night and darkness her no longer hide,  
For e'er she got aboard she was descried.   

401.  
Night's cloud upon the Eastern Horoscope,  
Which like a sleeping eye-lid hid the sky,  
Uplifted seemed to wake, and set wide open,  
Disclosed unto the world heaven's glorious eye:  
The watch her apprehends immediately,  
Conceiving her no Skippers boy to be,  
Whose face and habit did so disagree.   

402.  
Whether it were the then near dawning day,  
Or else a native luster of her own,  
Which through her clothes her beauty did bewray,  
Which like a Carbuncle in darkness shone,  
It is uncertain; but she yet unknown,  
About the hour King Dermot used to rise,  
Was brought unto the Court in this disguise.   

403.  
O envious light betrayer of each plot,  
Lovers in darkness silently contrive  
Disturb not their affairs, they need thee not,  
Nor do not them of wished joys deprive,  
Who to avoid thy piercing eye do strive:  
Converse with Gravers, who cut seals in bone,  
Or threescore faces on a cherry-stone.   

404.  
What hath this innocent beauty done to thee,  
That thou her life to danger shouldst expose?  
But (light) we know it is thy property  
To conceal nothing, but all things disclose:  
For now about the time King Dermot rose,  
First a suspicion, after, a report  
Was spread, that Mellefant was fled from Court.   

405.  
What miseries can Fate together twist,  
When she to ruin mortals doth intend!  
For now no sooner Mellefant was missed,  
Whose loss, King Dermot highly did offend,  
Who messengers to seek her straight doth send,  
And while that they for the fair Princess sought,  
Poor Sydanis is to King Dermot brought.   

406.  
Who seeing her in ship-boy's clothes disguised,  
Was more enraged than he was before:  
For now King Dermot instantly surmised,  
By that concealing habit which she wore,  
She was confederate, and therefore swore,  
Unless she told where Mellefant was fled,  
Upon a scaffold she should lose her head.   

407.  
After dire threats, and strict examination,  
Sweet Sydanis (as was the truth) denying,  
She neither knew the time, nor the occasion,  
Nor manner of Princess Mellefant her flying,  
Grown desperate, she cares not now for dying,  
Nor any other kind of torment, since  
She may not go to her beloved Prince.   

408.  
For Sydanis is into prison thrown,  
In durance, and in fetters to remain,  
Till where the Princess were it should be known,  
Or that she to the Court should come again.  
Her keeper doth her kindly entertain  
In his best lodgings, whereas her restraint  
Gave birth and vent to many a thousand plaint.   

409.  
Which here should be related, but you may  
Conjecture what a wight in such a case,  
Hopeless of comfort and relief, would say,  
Confined unto a solitary place,  
In her lives danger and the King's disgrace:  
Unless through grief she speechless were become:  
Small sorrows speak, the greatest still are dumb.   

410.  
But as a woodman shooting with his bow,  
And afterwards pursuing with his hound  
An innocent and silly harmless do,  
Doth kill her not so soon, as if astounded  
He suffer her to grieve upon her wound,  
And tapisht in a brake, to see the flood,  
And sent the crimson torrent of her blood:   

411.  
So Sydanis, sad and disconsolate,  
Hath now an opportunity to grieve  
The dire affects of her malignant fate,  
Which nought but death could possibly relieve:  
Time only seems to her a sad reprieve:  
To speak of her we for a while shall cease,  
Till some good hap procure her glad release.   

412.  
For now from womens' passions and slight woe,  
After the Drums, and Clarions haughty sound,  
To speak the rage of Kings marching we go,  
Who roaring like to Lions being bound  
With horrid grumblings do our ears confound:  
Blew eyed Bellona, thou whom plumed art,  
The soldiers warlike Mistress, act this part.   

413.  
And thou stern Mars, whose hands wet and imbrued  
With raw fresh bleeding slaughters thou hast made  
Of foes, whom thou victorious hast subdued,  
Whirling about thy cask thy conquering blade,  
Help me out of this Lake of blood rowade,  
And smooth the furrows of thy frowning brow,  
As when thou erst didst lovely Venus' woe.   

414.  
King Dermot highly enraged for the loss  
Of Princess Mellefant his kingdom's heir,  
Resolved, that with an army he would cross  
The British Seas, and straight his course would steer  
Unto besieged Carleon city, where,  
He would assist the Duke against his foe  
King Arnon, and his son that wronged him so.   

415.  
For now he thought he might be well assured,  
His daughter with Prince Leoline combined,  
Since his consent no ways could be procured  
For marrying her, he did a season find  
To steal away, and with a favouring wind,  
He to his royal Sires, King Arnons Court,  
His prize like beauteous Helen would transport.   

416.  
Therefore to be revenged was all his care,  
And for that purpose he a fleet would man,  
Greater than Menelaus did prepare,  
When he the bloody Trojan war began,  
And after ten years' siege the city wan,  
Putting to Sea from Aulis port in Greece,  
Or Jasons' fleet that fetched the golden fleece.   

417.  
Upon the beating of King Dermots drum,  
From Ulsters shrubby hills and quagmires foul  
Of slight armed kern, forthwith a troop doth come,  
Who in the furthest North do hear the owl  
And wolves about their cabins nightly howl,  
Which to all hardness have enured been,  
Eating raw beef, half boiled in the cow's skin.   

418.  
Ere these were civilised, they had no corn,  
Nor used no tillage that might get them food,  
But to their children's mouths were newly borne,  
They put upon a spears point dipped in blood  
Raw flesh, that so it might be understood,  
That children grown up men should never feed,  
But when that they had done some bloody deed.   

419.  
These savages whilst they did erst possess  
Like Tartars, or the roving Scythian Nation  
Coleranes, or Monaghans' wide wilderness,  
Having no towns or any habitation,  
They and their cattle still took up their station  
In grassy plains, and there a while abide,  
Where the deep Eagh, and fishfull Dergh do slide.   

420.  
More forces from the borders of Logh Erne  
Do come, which in small Islands doth abound,  
In whose clear bottom men may yet discern  
Houses and towers under the water drowned,  
Which divine justice sunk into the ground,  
For Sodomy, and such abomination,  
Men using beasts in carnal copulation.   

421.  
From Conaghs pleasant and more civil parts,  
Where Arbute trees do grow upon the coast,  
Horsemen well armed with glaves and with their darts,  
Unto the Army of King Dermot post,  
Making complete the number of his host:  
Who like old Romans on their pads do ride,  
And Hobbies without stirrups do bestride.   

422.  
What counties, or what towns monster contains,  
Through whose fair champion the smooth Boyn doth pass,  
Send forces from their well manured plains,  
Armed with the halberd, and the galley-glass,  
The county that great Desmond's country was,  
With that of the most ancient peer Kildare,  
Joined with Mac Arte, for this war prepare.   

423.  
To them the province Leinster doth unite  
Her trained bands and warlike regiment,  
Who use the pike and partisan in fight,  
And who are from those towns and counties sent,  
Whose fields the Barrow, Nore, and Shore indent  
Three sister Rivers, whose clear source begins  
In the high woody mountains of the Glins.   

424.  
Unto these forces raised in Erinland,  
Are joined the highland Redshank and fierce Scot,  
Of whom there comes a stout and numerous band,  
Which up steep hills, as on plain ground do trot,  
As for steel armour they regard it not;  
Their barbed arrows closed in a calf's skin,  
To their yew bows the quivers still have been.   

425.  
The Army being shipped, the winds that blow  
Over the vast Atlantic Ocean,  
Bred in high hills Westward of Mexico,  
Who with their waving wings do cool and fan  
The Sun burnt Moor and naked Floridan,  
Sending forth constantly their favouring gales,  
Wast Dermots ships unto the coast of Wales.   

426.  
For now Mars occidental in the West,  
Meridional descending from the Line  
Of the moon's mansion Cancer was possessed,  
And sliding down anto an airy sign,  
Raised winds, that furrowed up the Western brine,  
Corus and Thracius blowing still abaft,  
King Dermots ships do to Carleonwaft.   

427.  
But yet those blasts that were so prosperous,  
And Dermot in Carleons' harbour set,  
Contrary were to Prince Androgios,  
And did his much desired voyage let:  
His ships out of the harbour could not get,  
But in it for full six weeks' space they stayed,  
Waiting a wind, and never Anchor weighed.   

428.  
To pass for Erinland was his intent,  
With all the gallantry coin could provide,  
And there to consummate his high content,  
In making beauteous Mellefant his Bride:  
But Aeolus his passage hath denied,  
And unexpected, with succours unsought,  
King Dermot to Carleons' walls hath brought.   

429.  
Whose coming was no sooner told the Duke  
And Prince Androgios, but both went to meet  
King Dermot at the port, whereas they took  
In arms each other, and do kindly greet:  
Then through a long and well built spacious street,  
They to a stately Castle do ascend,  
Where for that night their compliments they end.   

430.  
Next morrow from the Castles lofty towers,  
Whose mighty ruins are remaining yet,  
The Princes did behold King Arnons powers,  
Which had Carleon city round beset:  
To whom Duke Leon full of just regret,  
And sorrow for his daughter, doth relate  
His wrongs and cause of his distressed state.   

430.  
King Dermot, swollen with ire and indignation,  
And being no less sensible of grief,  
Of his unheard of injuries makes relation,  
Telling that he was come to the relief  
Of Leon, to be wrecked on a thief,  
Who albeit that he were a King's son,  
A base and injurious fact had done.   

431.  
The noble Prince Androgios now resenting  
His sufferings in the loss of Mellefant,  
Whose marriage (as he thought) was past preventing,  
With high-born courage which no fear could daunt,  
Besought the King and Duke, that they would grant  
To him a boon, which was this, That he might  
Challenge Prince Leoline to single fight.   

432.  
For by this time fame all abroad had spread,  
Prince Leoline was back returned again,  
Whom erst King Arnon did believe was dead,  
And in Carnarvan Castle did remain,  
So now there nothing was that did restrain  
The noble Prince Androgios, to demand  
A single combat with him hand to hand.   

433.  
And to that end an Herald straight was sent  
To Leoline, who in his right hand wore  
A blood-red Banner, as the argument  
Of the defiance message that he bore;  
Behind upon his Taberd, and before,  
A Lion rampant, and a Dragon red,  
On Crimson Velvet were embroidered.   

434.  
The Herald, whose approach none might debar,  
Doth with a trumpet through the Army ride,  
Who bravely sounded all the points of war,  
Until he came to the Pavilion side,  
Whereas Prince Leoline did then abide,  
And then the trumpeter eftsoons doth fall  
In lower warlike notes to sound a call.   

435.  
The which no sooner Leoline had heard,  
But bravely mounted on a barbed Steed,  
He like a Princely gallant straight appeared,  
To whom the Herald doth the challenge read:  
Which having done, he afterward with speed,  
(As is the form when challenges are past)  
Androgies Gauntlet on the ground he cast.   

436.  
Prince Leoline commanding of his Page  
To take the Gauntlet up, briefly replied,  
Herald I do accept Androgios' gage:  
Tell him the sword the quarrel shall decide,  
Of him, whom he unjustly hath defied:  
For three days hence in both our army's sight,  
We will a noble single combat sight.   

437.  
The Herald back returned unto the King,  
Related how his message he had done,  
And to Androgios doth the answer bring  
Of Leoline: King Albion's Princely son  
Hath for his forward valour honour won:  
Of whose resolves, and warlike preparation  
Till the third day I respite the relation.   

439.  
Mean time the Druid Morrogh, who hath been  
Thus long unmentioned, now chief Actor was,  
Who though that he were absent, yet had seen  
All that in Erinland had come to pass,  
By means of a most wondrous magic glass,  
Which to his eye would represent and show  
All that the Wizard did desire to know.   

440.  
Which glass was made according to the opinion  
Of chemists, of seven metals purified,  
Together melted under the dominion  
Of those seven planets do their nature's guide:  
Then if it polished be on either side,  
And made in form of circle, one shall see  
Things that are past as well as those that be.   

441.  
In this said glass he saw the sad estate  
Of Sydanis, who was in prison kept,  
Who weeping in her silent chamber sat,  
And Mellefant, who on the mountain slept,  
Whose pass the wandering fire did intercept:  
And now this story must not end, before  
The Druid both these Ladies do restore.   

442.  
For they be those must put a happy end  
To discords, and bring all to a conclusion,  
And all that is amiss they must amend,  
And put in order things are in confusion:  
They of much blood must hinder the effusion:  
Such virtue's Ladies have, who are the bliss,  
Which here in this world among mortals is.   

443.  
Thrice ten degrees of the ecliptic line,  
Phoebus ascending up had overpast,  
And now had entered in another sign,  
From Gemini, whereas he harboured last,  
Since Mellefant into a trance was cast,  
And thirty jornies through nights silent shade  
O'er her nocturnal Arch the moon had made.   

443.  
Who nightly riding o'er the mountain's top,  
Where Mellefant the sleeping Princess lay,  
Her silver Chariot there she still did stop,  
And by the sleeping body used to stay,  
Kissing, caressing, till near break of day,  
Of her rare beauties now enamoured more  
Than of her loved Endymion heretofore.   

444.  
No longer could the Queen of night refrain  
From kissing of her sweet and ruby lips:  
Her kisses ended, she begins again,  
With gentle arms her ivory neck she clips:  
Her hands sometimes towards parts more private slips,  
Curious inquisitive for to know the truth,  
If one so rarely fair could be a youth.   

445.  
But as a thief, that doth assurance lack  
At his first pilfering from a heap of gold,  
Doth oft put forth his hand, oft pulls it back,  
Then puts it forth again, then doth withhold:  
So at the first Cynthia was not so bold  
To let her hand assure her by a tuch,  
Of that which she to know desired so much.   

446.  
Yet at the last fortune did things disclose,  
And gave contentment to her longing mind,  
For in the pocket of the page's hose  
Putting her hand, she did a letter find,  
Which all the clew of error did unwind,  
Written by Mellefant to Leoline,  
In case that she should fail of her design.   

447.  
The letter specified her sex and name,  
And whole scope of her amorous intent,  
Laying on Leoline a gentle blame,  
That he unkindly from Eblana went:  
It specified to follow him she meant,  
And to Carnarvan castle she would go,  
To meet with Leoline her dear loved foe.   

448.  
The Empress of the watery wilderness  
Reading the lines, was straight with pity moved,  
Compassionating Mellefants distress,  
The rather for that she herself had loved,  
Now the third day since Mellefant behoved  
To be in Britain, a way was prepared  
For her transport, which then shall be declared.   

449.  
For we must speak of Sydanis her wrongs,  
Of her sad prison, and her glad release,  
Which to the Druid Moroghs part belongs,  
Who to attend her fortunes ne'er did cease,  
But after troubles would procure her ease,  
Of which the manner briefly to relate:  
Much wonder in the hearers will create.   

450.  
There's nothing truer than that sapience  
Of wise and knowing men, prevails o'er fate,  
Ruling the stars, and each intelligence,  
O'er which their wisdoms do predominate;  
They can advance good fortune, ill abate:  
And if that in the heavens they can do so,  
They can do much more here on earth below.   

451.  
As soon as Phoebus had behind him shut  
The ruby leaves of heavens great Western gate,  
And to that day an evening period put,  
And now began it to be dark and late,  
As Morogh in his lonely cabin sat,  
He put in act a course, that should be sure  
Fair Sydanis enlargement to procure.   

452.  
For by his learning understanding all  
The languages that fowls and ravens speak,  
He to him did an ancient Raven call,  
Commanding her, that she her flight should take,  
And to Carleons' walls all speed should make,  
Unto the limbs of one late quartered,  
On which the day before the bird had fed.   

453.  
Adding withal this strict injunction,  
That instantly, ere any man it wist,  
She should bring back to him a dead man's bone,  
The which that she should pick out of his wrist.  
The raven of her message nothing mist,  
But suddenly she fled, and unsuspected,  
The great Magicians will she straight effected.   

454.  
Thieves say, that he that shall about him bear  
This bone, and means by night men's goods to take.  
All that are sleeping (the while he is there  
Stealing and breaking the house) shall not wake,  
For any noise that ever he shall make:  
But shall so soundly sleep, as that he may  
Securely rob, and unknown pass away.   

455.  
Unto this bone the Druid he did add  
A shining grass, that grows among the rocks,  
Which a strange kind of secret virtue had,  
For it would straight undo all bolts and locks:  
The blacksmith's skill in shooting it so mocks,  
That if a horse but touch it with his shoes,  
Though ne'er so well set on, he doth them loose,   

456.  
Strange tales there are which History affords,  
Of bones, and Stones, of Herbs, and minerals,  
The knowledge of whom hath been found by Birds,  
Beasts, Insects, and by other Aminals:  
Witness the Stone Albertus magnus calls  
Aldorius, the virtues of which stone,  
But for the eggs of crows had not been known.   

457.  
For if one take crows eggs out of the nest,  
And boil them in hot water till they be  
Stone hard, the old Crow never will take rest,  
Until the stone Aldorius she see,  
Which she brings back with her unto the tree  
Where her nest was, which a while having lain  
Upon the eggs, it turns them rear again.   

458.  
Rare secrets are in nature, which we'll pass,  
As to this matter little pertinent:  
The deadman's wrist bone, and the shining grass,  
From Morrogh to fair Sydanis were sent,  
And of their natures an advertisement,  
Which on a Beech's rind, as on a note,  
With a sharp pointed steel the Druid wrote▪   

459.  
Advising her, that she without delay,  
Through the dark shade of that approaching night,  
From her confinement straight would hie away,  
And come to him before the morrow's light,  
And that she should not fear for any sight  
She should behold, nor should not be dismayed,  
For she to him should safely be conveyed.   

460.  
Having enclosed within the Beeches bark  
The bone, and grass, he in the ravens ear  
Whispered some words, who flying through the dark,  
With wings that blacker than night's darkness were,  
Ere threescore minutes past she was come there,  
Where Sydanis (though it were very late)  
Lamenting, in her chamber window sat.   

461.  
Where suddenly the window being open,  
The Raven entered in without control,  
And into Sydanis her lap did drop  
The things enclosed within the Beechin scroll:  
Thus she, who still was held an ominous foul,  
And fatal her presage in every thing,  
Yet news of joy to Sydanis doth bring.   

462.  
Who having read the writing, out she goes,  
Intending to take shipping at the key:  
But fate of her did otherwise dispose,  
For she must be conveyed another way:  
For at the gate Nights sable coach did stay,  
Which by the Druid had directed been,  
As she came out of doors to take her in.   

463.  
This chario by four black steeds was drawn,  
First Nicteus burned with Plnto's pitchy mark;  
Then black A lastor with his snaky main,  
With Metheos', Phobos, who do love the dark:  
Which four at singing of the early lark,  
Vanish away, and under ground are gone,  
Drenching their sooty heads in Acheron.   

464.  
Thus Sydanis in Nights black Coach being set,  
Before Fortuna Major did arise,  
Showed like love's Queen upon a throne of Jet,  
Who suddenly was hurried through the skies,  
And all the residue of that night lies  
In Moroghs Cave, until the dawning East  
Disclosed fair Aurora's rosy breast.   

465.  
Who risen from her Safron coloured bed,  
Perfumed with Indian Spices where she lay,  
And Phoebus lifting up his golden head,  
Lights universal Banner did display;  
In glorious Robes himself he doth array,  
And every cloud he far away doth chase  
From the bright Front of heavens clear shining face.   

466.  
For now as he the mountain tops did guild  
With burnished Ore of heavens celestial Mine,  
The Kings two Armies came into the field,  
Led by Andrgios and by Leoline;  
Who like the stars of Gemini did shine:  
Brave twins of Honour, for who them beheld,  
Could not affirm which of the two excelled.   

467.  
In midst of their main battles the two Kings,  
As in their safest fortresses, were placed:  
Great Dukes and colonels did lead the wings,  
Who with their several commands were graced.  
Now as the Princes did to combat haste,  
A wondrous thing appeared to all the host,  
Which all their warlike resolution crossed;   

468.  
For high in skies there instantly appears  
A chariot, which eight white Swans as they flew,  
Yoked in golden chains and Silken gears,  
Soaring an easy pace after them drew:  
But who was in the chariot no man knew,  
For that an airy and bright shining cloud  
The party carried, from their sight did shroud.   

469.  
By floury colours which the Swans did bear  
About their necks, where Emonies were blended  
With Myrtills, and with Pinks entwined were:  
Some thought that Venus was again descended,  
As when her son Aeneas she defended  
From furious Turnus, and as then she did,  
Androgios in a cloud should so be hid.   

470.  
But it was otherwise, this clouded Coach  
Was sent by the fair Princess of the Night,  
With a command, that when it did approach  
The place where the two Princes were to fight,  
The Swans upon the ground should down alight,  
The winged team accordingly did do't,  
And set the Coach at Prince Androgio's foot.   

471.  
The cloud then vanishing away that kept  
The fair and longed-for object from the eye,  
Bright Mellefant appeared, who long had slept,  
As in a trance now waked immediately,  
Whose beauty when Androgios did descry,  
He gave command, that till that he had fought,  
She unto royal Dermot should be brought.   

472.  
All this did brave prince Leoline behold,  
And all the Army (it was done so nigh)  
Who eftsoons to his Sire King Arnon told,  
That there was come an enchantress from the sky:  
But all enchantments he did then defy,  
As things ridiculous, which he did not fear,  
And forthwith he prepared to couch his spear.   

473.  
Now as these valiant Princes had begun  
To couch their lances, and put them in rest,  
And each at other fiercely for to run,  
Aiming the points at one another's breast,  
Prince Leoline's courageous noble beast  
Began to tramble, and to snort, and prance,  
But one foot forward he would not advance.   

474.  
The Prince enraged with anger and disdain,  
Did strike into his sides his spurs of steel,  
And still he urged him on, but all in vain,  
For that for all the strokes that he did feel  
From the brave noble Princes sprightly heel,  
He went not on, but rather backward made,  
As if that he had been a restive Jade.   

475.  
Which now did wake Prince Leoline conceive,  
He had indeed with some enchantment met:  
Morogh the Druid he did not perceive,  
Nor Sydanis, who both their hands had set  
Upon the bridle, and the horse did let,  
For Ferne seed got upon S. John his night,  
Made them invisible to all men's sight.   

476.  
But when the fern seed they had cast away,  
And Leoline his Sydanis did see,  
He from his Steed alights without delay,  
And with such joy as may not uttered be,  
Embracing, kisses her soft lips, and she  
That had no other magic, but loves charms,  
Circled his neck with her soft Ivory arms.   

477.  
With Leoline she to King Arnon goes,  
Whose almost infinite astonishment  
May not be told; now Sydanis he knows,  
Far greater is his joy, and his content.  
The Druid is recalled from banishment,  
That he unto the King and Prince might tell  
The History of all things that befell.   

478  
It being known how all things came about,  
And how that both the Princesses were found,  
Both armies raised a universal shout:  
The Trumpets, Clarions flourishes do sound,  
All hearts are now with high contentment crowned,  
The heralds with white flags of peace are seen,  
And Civicke Garlands of oaks leafy green.   

479.  
For by this time the brave Androgios knew  
His Princely Mistress Mellefant the fair,  
For joy whereof his arms away he threw,  
And with deportment most debonair  
Saluteth old King Dermots beauteous heir:  
Intending at Carleon with all state,  
His hymeneal rites to celebrate.   

480.  
Whereas two Kings, two Princes, and their Brides,  
And old Duke Leon, had an interview:  
There now was full contentment on all sides,  
Which fortune seemed daily to renew,  
And by the Druids telling greater grew:  
Of all the great adventures that had past,  
And Merioneth in the Dungeon cast.   

481.  
Who albeit that she long dead was thought,  
And in the Dungeon starved for want of food,  
Yet to Duke Leon she again was brought,  
From whom he divers stories understood,  
And now in fine all sorted unto good:  
Whose wonderful relations serve in Wales  
To pass away long nights in winter's Tales.   

482.  
And lastly for to consummate all joy,  
Ere Phoebe nine times had renewed her light,  
Fair Sydanis brought forth a Prince, a boy  
Heavens choicest darling, and mankind's delight:  
Of whose exploits foam happier pen may write,  
And may relate strange things to be admired:  
For here my fainting pen is well near tired.    
FINIS.   

CYNTHIADES: OR, Amorous sonnets: Addressed to the honour of his Mistress, under the name of CYNTHIA.  

On her fair Eyes.  

Look not upon me with those lovely Eyes,  
From whom there flies  
So many a dart  
To wound a heart,  
That still in vain to thee for mercy cries,  
Yet dies, whether thou grantest, or denies.   

Of thy coy looks, know, I do not complain,  
Nor of disdain:  
Those, sudden, like  
The lightning strike,  
And kill me without any lingering pain,  
And slain so once, I cannot die again.   

But O, thy sweet looks from my eyes conceal,  
Which so oft steal  
My soul from me,  
And bring to thee  
A wounded heart, which though it do reveal  
The hurts thou giv'st it, yet thou canst not heal.   

Upon those sweets I surfeit still, yet I  
Wretch cannot die,  
But am revived,  
And made long lived  
By often dying, since thy gracious eye,  
Like heaven, makes not a death, but ecstasy.   

Then in the heaven of that beauteous face,  
Since thou dost place  
A Martyrd heart,  
Whose bliss thou art,  
Since thou hast ta'en the soul, this favour do,  
Into thy bosom take the body to.    

TO CYNTHIA,  
On a Mistress for his Rivals.  
CAn I not have a Mistress of my own,  
But that as soon as ever it is known  
That she is mine, both he, and he, and he  
Will court my Cynthia, and my Rivals be:  
The cause of this is easily understood,  
It is because (my Cynthia) thou art good,  
And they desire, cause thou art good, and woman,  
To make thee better, by making thee common.  
Well, I do thank them: but since thou canst be  
No subject fit for this their charity,  
As being too narrow and too small a bit  
To feed so many mouths, know I will fit  
Their palates with a Mistress, which I'll get,  
The like whereof was never seen as yet:  
For I for their sakes will a Mistress choose,  
As never had a maidenhead to lose,  
Or if she had, it was so timely gone,  
She never could remember she had one.  
She by antiquity, and her vile face  
Of all whores else and bawds shall have the place;  
One whose all parts, her nose, eyes, foot, and hand,  
Shall so far out of all proportion stand,  
As it by Symmetry shall not be guest,  
By any one, the feature of the rest.  
She shall have such a face, I do intend,  
As painting, nor yet carving, shall not mend:  
A Bare anotomized unburied coarse  
Shall not more ghastly look, nor yet stink worse:  
For at the general resurrection  
She shall lay claim to hell as to her own  
Inheritance and fee, for it is meant,  
She comes not there by purchase, but descent:  
One whose sins were they to be reckoned  
By number of the hairs upon her head,  
There were but two to answer for at most,  
One being the sin against the holy Ghost.  
And if a Physiognomer should eye,  
And judge by rules of metaposcopy,  
Of vices and conditions of her mind,  
He, as a face hid with the small pox should find  
As there one ulcer, so, but one vice there,  
Spreading the whole, and that is everywhere:  
Yet shall she have so many vices sowed  
In every limb, as pains shall be bestowed  
By scholars and logicians, to invent  
A larger, and a wider predicament,  
To comprehend her Cardinal vices all,  
Which under no one Notion can fall.  
Her shape shall be like th'earth, so round and rude,  
As the beginning of her longitude  
To find, and to set down, men shall be fain  
T' importune the Pope's judgement once again:  
Her cheeks and buttocks shall so near agree  
In shape and semblance, they shall seem to be  
Twins by their likeness, nor shall it be eath,  
To know, which is which by their fulsome breath  
When Palmisters, or Gypsies shall but look  
Upon her palm, they'll think they have mistook,  
And say they see some Cripples withered hand,  
Or Mummy, stolen from Egypt's parched sand.  
And lastly, when she dies, If some device  
Make her not dirt, her dust being turned to lice,  
Shall make graves lousy, and dead bodies, which  
Lie near her, to be troubled with the Itch,  
Which shall exceed the Lice in Egypt bred,  
Which only plagued the living, these the dead.  
She shall be rottener than last autumn's pears,  
And more contagious than two plaguy years.  
The college of physicians shall not  
'Gainst her infection make an Antidote.  
This Mistress will I have, rather than one  
Whom I may not enjoy myself alone:  
And such a one I'll hate as faithfully,  
As (dearest Cynthia) I have loved thee.   

TO CYNTHIA.  
On her being an Incendiary.  
SAy (sweetest) whether thou didst use me well,  
If when in my heart's house I let thee dwell  
A welcome Inmate, and did not require  
More than a kiss a day, for rent or hire:  
Thou wert not only pleased to stop the rent,  
But most ungrateful, burned the Tenement:  
Henceforth it will ensue, that thou didst carry  
The branded name of an Incendiary:  
No heart will harbour thee, and thou, like poor  
As I, mayst lodging beg from door to door.  
If it be so, my ready course will be  
To get a Licence, and re-edify  
My wasted heart. If Cupid shall inquire,  
By what mishap my heart was set on fire;  
I'll say, my happy fortune was to get  
Thy beauty's crop, which being green and wet  
With shores of tears, I did to hasty in,  
Before that throughly withered it had been:  
So heating in the mow it soon became  
At first a smoke, and afterwards a flame:  
At this love's little King will much admire,  
How cold and wet cojoyned can cause a fire  
Having no heat themselves, but I do know  
What he will say, for he will bid me go,  
And build my heart of stone; so shall I be  
Safe from the lightning of thine eyes, and thee,  
The cold, and hardness of stone hearts, best serving  
For coy green beauties, and them best preserving,  
Yet here is danger; for if thou be in't  
My heart to stone, and thine harder than flint,  
Knocking together may strike fire, and set  
Much more on fire, than hath been burned yet  
If so it hap, then let those flames calcine  
My heart to Cinders, so it soften thine:  
A heart, which until then doth serve the turn  
To inflame others, but itself not burn.   

TO CYNTHIA.  
On concealment of her beauty.  

DO not conceal thy radiant eyes,  
The starlight of serenest skies,  
lest wanting of their heavenly light,  
They turn to Chaos endless night.  
Do not conceal those tresses fair,  
The silken snares of thy curled hair,  
lest finding neither gold, nor Ore,  
The curious silkworm work no more.   

Do not conceal those breasts of thine,  
More snow white, than the Apennine,  
lest if there be like cold or frost,  
The lily be for ever lost.   

Do not conceal that fragrant scent,  
Thy breath, which to all flowers hath lent  
Perfumes, lest it being suppressed,  
No spices grow in all the East.   

Do not conceal thy heavenly voice,  
Which makes the hearts of gods rejoice,  
lest music hearing no such thing,  
The Nightingale forget to sing.   

Do not conceal, nor yet eclipse  
Thy pearly teeth with coral lips,  
lest that the Seas cease to bring forth  
Gems, which from thee have all their worth.   

Do not conceal no beauty grace,  
That's either in thy mind or face,  
lest virtue overcome by vice,  
Make men believe no paradise.    

TO CYNTHIA.  
On her Embraces.  
IF thou a reason dost desire to know,  
My (dearest Cynthia) why I love thee so,  
As when I do enjoy all the love's store,  
I am not yet content, but seek for more;  
When we do kiss so often as the tale  
Of kisses doth outvie the winter's hail:  
When I do print them on more close and sweet  
Than shells of Scalops, Cockles when they meet,  
Yet am not satisfied: when I do close  
Thee nearer to me then the Ivy grows  
Unto the oak: when those white arms of thine  
Clip me more close than doth the elm the Vine:  
When naked both, thou seemest not to be  
Contiguous, but continuous parts of me:  
And we in bodies are together brought  
So near, our souls may know each others thought  
Without a whisper: yet I do aspire  
To come more close to thee, and to be nigher:  
Know, 'twas well said, that spirits are too high  
For bodies, when they meet to satisfy;  
Our souls having like forms of light and sense,  
Proceeding from the same intelligence,  
Desire to mix like to two water drops,  
Whose union some little hindrance stops,  
Which meeting both together would be one.  
Fro in the steel, and in the Adamant stone,  
One and the same magnetic soul is cause,  
That with such unseen chains each other draws:  
So our souls now divided, brook't not well,  
That being one, they should asunder dwell.  
Then let me die, that so my soul being free,  
May join with that her other half in thee,  
For when in thy pure self it shall abide,  
It shall assume a body glorified,  
Being in that high bliss; nor shall we twain  
Or wish to meet, or fear to part again.   

TO CYNTHIA.  
On a kiss.  
Being thy servant Cynthia, 'tis my duty  
To make thy name as glorious as thy beauty.  
Of which things may be writ far more and high,  
Then are of stars in all astronomy,  
Nay natural Philosophy, that contains  
Each thing that in the Universe remains;  
Nor more, nor such materials affords,  
Could we for the expression find but words.  
But surely of thy kindness I'm afraid,  
Or bounty very little can be said:  
A page in Decimo sexto will suffice  
For them, which if one should Epitomise  
Like an arithmetician, that hath wrought,  
And hath a unite to a cipher brought,  
He certainly no other thing should do  
Then cleave a geometrical point in two.  
Thy bounty on a half penny may be set,  
And they that serve thee, sure do nothing get:  
For when thy faithful servants wages is,  
No more from thee then quarterly a kiss,  
Penurious thou unjustly dost detain  
His salary so long, that he is fain,  
(Because thou dost thy lips so strictly keep)  
To take it from thee when thou art asleep:  
And if that thou art waking by some slight  
Or stratagem he must come by his right:  
There is no justice, where there's no way left  
To get our own, but violence, or theft:  
And therefore Cynthia, as a Turquois bought,  
Or stolen, or found, is vertules, and nought.  
It must be freely given by a friend,  
Whose love and bounty doth such virtue lend,  
As makes it to compassionate, and tell  
By looking pale, the wearer is not well.  
So one kiss given shall content me more,  
Then if that I had taken half a score:  
Thy ruby lips like Turquoises, ne'er shall  
By giving kisses wax, or dry, or pale.   

TO CYNTHIA.  
On seeing and touching.  

Wert thou as kind as thou art fair,  
All men might have a part,  
And breathe thee freely as the air:  
For (Cynthia) thou art  
In the superlative degree,  
More beauteous than the light.  
And as the Sun art made to be  
An object for the sight.   

But since thou hast some sweets unknown,  
Ordained for the touch,  
Particular for me alone,  
Then favour me thus much;  
When to my touch thou dost allow  
Thy cheeks, thy lips, thy breast,  
Thy noblest parts: then do not thou  
Exclude me from the rest.    

TO CYNTHIA.  
On her looking glass.  
GIve me leave (fairest Cynthia) to envy  
Thy looking glass far happier than I,  
To which thy naked beauties every morn  
Thou showest so freely, while thou dost adorn  
Thy richer hair with gems, and neatly deck  
With Oriental pearl thy whiter neck,  
Which take the species of thy naked breast,  
So white, I doubt if it can be expressed  
By the reflection of the purest glass,  
Which Swans, snows, Cerusces doth to surpass,  
As in comparison of it, these may  
Rather than white, be termed hoar, or grey:  
Besides, all whites but thine may take a spot,  
Thine, the first matter of all whites, cannot:  
May be thou trusts thy glasses secrecy  
With dainties, yet unseen by any eye:  
All these thy favours I will well allow  
Unto my rival glass; but so, that thou  
Wilt not permit it justly to reflect  
Thy eye upon itself: I shall suspect,  
And jealous grow, that such reflex may move  
Thee (Fair Narcissus like) to fall in love  
With thine own beauty's shadow: Loves sharp dart  
Shot 'gainst a stone may bound, and wound thy heart:  
Which if it should, alas how sure were I  
To be past hope, and then past remedy.  
This to prevent, mayst thou when thou dost rise,  
Vouchsafe to dress thy beauties in my eyes,  
If these shall be to small, may for thy sake,  
Hypocondriacke melancholy make  
My body all of glass, all which shall be  
So made, and so constellated by thee,  
That as in crystal Mirroirs many a spot  
Is by infection of a look begot:  
This glass of thine if thou but frown, shall fly  
In thousand shivers broken by thine eye:  
Since than it hath this sympathy with thee,  
Let me not languish in a jealousy,  
To think this wonder may be brought to pass,  
Thy fair looks may inanimate thy glass,  
And make it my competitor: 'tis all one  
To give life to a glass, as make me stone.   

TO CYNTHIA.  
On expressions of love.  
MUst I believe (sweet Cynthia) that the flame  
Hath light, and heat had I ne'er felt the same?  
Must I believe the cold and hardest flint,  
Had I ne'er known't had fiery sparkles in't?  
Must I believe the loadstone e'er did draw  
The steel, when such a thing I never saw?  
Must I turn Papist by implicit faith,  
To believe that, which thou, or woman saith?  
Thou sayest thou lov'st me, but thou dost not show  
Any, the smallest sign that it is so:  
All emanations of thy soul thou keep'st  
Retired within thy breast, as when thou sleep'st  
True love is not a mere intelligence  
That's metaphysical, for every sense  
Must see and judge of it; I must avow,  
That senseless things are kinder far than thou:  
Thou neither wilt embrace, nor kiss; thy hand  
(Unless I kiss it) doth each touch withstand:  
Learn therefore of the flame not to profess  
Thou lov'st, unless thou love in act express:  
Learn of the flint which being once calcined,  
Becomes a white soft Cement, that will bind:  
Learn of the loadstone, let it teach thy heart  
Not only to draw lovers, but impart  
Thy favours to them, let thy servants feel  
Thy love, who are more sensible than steel.   

TO CYNTHIA.  

WHen I behold the heaven of thy face,  
And see how every beauty, every grace  
Move, and are there  
As in their Sphere,   

What need have I (my Cynthia) to confer  
With any Chalde, or ginger:  
Since in the Scheme of thy fair face I see  
All the Aspects of my nativity.   

For if at any time thou shouldst cast down  
From thy serenest brow an angry frown,  
Or shouldst reflect  
That dire aspect   

Of opposition, or of enmity,  
That look would sure be fatal unto me,  
Unless fair Venus kind succeeding ray,  
Did much of the malignity allay.   

Or if I should be so unfortunate  
To see a look, though of imperfect hate,  
I am most sure  
That quadrature   

Would cast me in a quartan love-sick fever,  
Of which I should recover late, if ever,  
Or into a consumption, so should I  
Perish at last, although not suddenly.   

But when I see those starry Twins of thine,  
Behold me with a Sextile, or a Trine,  
And that they move  
In perfect love   

With amorous beams, they plainly do discover,  
My Horoscope marked me to be a lover:  
And that I only should not have the honour  
To be borne under Venus, but upon her.    

TO CYNTHIA.  
An apology.  
EXpect not (lovely Cynthia) yet from me  
Lines like thy fairest self, so clear, so free  
From any blemish, for what now I write,  
Is like a picture done in a dim light,  
A night piece, for my soul is overcast,  
As is a mirror with a humid blast,  
Or breathing on it: and a misty cloud,  
Thy beauty's brightness in a veil doth shroud.  
These lines of mine are only to be read  
To make thee drowsy when thou go'st to bed,  
For the long gloomy dark, and clouded sky;  
That the sun's brightness to us doth deny,  
Darkness all souls, and damps all human sense,  
That to his light hath any reference,  
And quenches so those hot and amorous flames,  
That would have made the water of the Thames  
Burn like canary-sack, more dull, and cold,  
Then wine at Court, which is both small, and old:  
Give me a little respite then to end  
That Romance, which to thy name I intend,  
Till Hampton Court, or Greenwich purer air,  
Produce lines like thyself, serene and fair:  
Mean time imagine that Newcastle coals,  
Which as (Sir Inego saith) have perished Paul's,  
And by the skill of Marquis wouldbe Jones,  
'Tis found the smokes salt did corrupt the stones:  
Think thou I am in London where I have  
No intermission, but to be a slave  
To other men's affairs more than my own,  
And have no leisure for to be alone:  
Yet (dearest Cynthia) think thus much of me,  
By night I do both think, and dream of thee,  
And that which I shall write in thy high praise,  
Shall be the work of fair, and sunshine days:  
Nor to describe thee will I take the pains,  
But in the hour when Jove, or Venus reigns.   

TO CYNTHIA.  

Learned Lapidaries say the Diamond  
Bred in the mines and mountains of the East,  
Mixed with heaps of gold-oar is often found,  
In the half-birds-half-beast, the Griphons' nest,  
Is first pure water easy to be pressed,  
Then ice, than crystal, which great length of time  
Doth to the hardest of all stones sublime.   

I think they say the truth, for it may be,  
And what they of the Diamond have said,  
(My brightest Cynthia) may be proved by thee,  
Who having lived so long, so chaste a maid,  
Thy heart with any Diamond being weighed,  
Is harder found, and colder than that stone,  
Thy first years virgin-softness being gone.   

For now it is become impenetrable,  
And he that will, or form, or cut it, must  
(If he to purchase such a Gem be able)  
Use a proportion of thy precious dust,  
Although the valuation be unjust:  
That pains which men to pierce it must bestow,  
Will equal dear in price unto it grow.   

But thou, it may be, wilt make this profession,  
That Diamonds are softened with goat's blood,  
And mollified by it will take impression,  
This of slain Lovers must be understood,  
But trust me, dearest Cynthia, 'tis not good,  
Thy beauties so should Lovers minds perplex,  
As make them think thee Angel without sex.    

TO CYNTHIA.  
On his being one with her.  
WHen pure refined Gold is made in coin,  
And Silver is put to't as the allay,  
Unless they both do melt, they will not join,  
There being to mix them both no other way;  
So bars of iron in like kind will not  
Be pieced together, nor be made in one,  
Unless they both be made alike red hot:  
Then join they as they had together grown.  
By this I find, there is no hope for me,  
Ever to be united as a part  
Of thy sweet self, or to be mixed with thee:  
Breast joined to breast, and heart commixed with heart,  
For that thy hard congealed and snow white breast  
Cold as the North, that sends forth frosty weather,  
And mine with flames of love warm as the West,  
Will ne'er admit that we shouldly together:  
Unless my tears like showers of April rain,  
Do thaw thy Ice to water back again:  
Or else unless my naked breasts being laid  
On thine, and a like cold, it may be said,  
Of both our bosoms being joined so,  
That Alabaster frozen was in snow;  
That so what heat together could not hold,  
Should be combined, and made one by the cold.   

TO CYNTHIA.  
On Sugar and her sweetness.  
THose (Cynthia) that do taste the honey-dew,  
Of thy moist rosy lips, (who are but few)  
Or suck the vapour of thy breath more sweet  
Than Honisuckles juice, they all agreeed,  
To be Mederaes' Sugars quintessence,  
Or some diviner syrup brought from thence,  
And for the operation, they believe,  
It hath a quality provocative:  
For Venus in the Sugars propagation  
Is said to have a sovereign domination:  
But I must not think so, for I have read,  
Of an extracted Sugar out of Lead,  
Of which I once did taste, which chemists call,  
Sugar of Saturn, for they therewithal  
Cure all venereal heats, for it doth hold  
A winter in it like that Planets cold,  
And though't be strangely sweet, yet doth it quench  
All courage towards a Mistress or a wench:  
Such must I think thy sweetness for to be,  
By that experience that is found in me:  
For he that shall those sweets of thine but taste,  
Shall like thyself become, as cold, as chaste:  
For like the Mildew new fallen from the sky,  
Though dropped from Heaven, yet doth it mortify.   

TO CYNTHIA.  
On her coyness.  
WHat sweetness is in fruits, in Nectorine,  
Peach, cherry, apricocke, those lips of thine,  
Cynthia express: what colours grace the rose,  
The Jessamine, the lily, pink, all those,  
Whether it be in colours, or in smells,  
Are emblems of thy body, which excels  
All flowers in purity, but can we find  
A flower, or herb an emblem of thy mind?  
Yes the coy shamefaced plant Pudefetan,  
Which is endued with sense, for if a man  
Come near the female, and his finger put  
Upon her leaf, she instantly will shut  
Close all her branches, as she did disdain  
The handling of a man, and spread again  
Her leaves abroad, when as a man is gone,  
And she is in her earthy bed alone:  
This Indian plant a man may well suppose,  
Within the garden of thy bosom grows,  
Which though it be invisible hath such  
A property, to make thee fly my tuch:  
And sure the plant hath such a sympathy,  
As that it will not close her leaves to thee;  
And if thou comest, herself she will not hide,  
But will (more nice than she) thy touch abide.   

TO CYNTHIA.  
On a short visit.  
GIving thee once a visit of respect,  
Because I some affairs could not neglect,  
Which much concerned me, brooking no delay,  
I only kissed thine hand, and went away:  
How aptly Cynthia didst thou then inquire,  
Whether I came to thee but to fetch fire:  
It was too true, for yet I never came  
To visit thee, burr I did fetch a flame,  
Religious fire, which kindled by thine eyes,  
Still made my heart thy beauty's sacrifice;  
But though I like Prometheus never stole  
Celestial fire to give a living soul  
To any earthen statue, stone, yet he  
More mercy finds from Jove, than I from thee;  
Though he to Caucasus be bound for ever,  
A ravenous vulture tiring on his liver,  
His pain is not augmented, but the same,  
But mine like Vesteas never-dying flame,  
Although to burn my heart it never cease,  
Like oil of gold yet it doth still increase  
An everlasting lamp, for fires that come  
From heaven still do burn, but not consume,   

TO CYNTHIA.  
On verses on her.  
THere is no sense, that I should write a line  
On such a beauty (Cynthia) as thine;  
I am no Poet, and it is in vain,  
Since thou exceedest all worth, to strive to fain:  
On my poor lines the Thespian well ne'er dropped,  
From me the fount of Helicon is stopped:  
I ne'er was so ill bred as to invoke  
Apollo, and to sacrifice with smoke  
Of coals, or billets, nor yet am I able,  
In the west-end of Cardinal Wolsey's stable,  
To keep a Pegasus, a horse that might  
Advance my muse by his swift nimble flight:  
Yet like a man oppressed with grief and cares,  
Lawsuits, and troubles, so with me it fares:  
If he but take a lusty jovial drink,  
Forgets all sorrows, so if I but think  
On thee, or thy chaste beauty, than my cheer  
Is changed, no clouds do in my soul appear;  
Thy rare divinest beauty so expels  
With joys the horror of ten thousand hells.   

TO CYNTHIA.  
On a parting kiss.  
SO would a soul, if that it did but know  
(Being formed in heaven) how that it was to go  
To a dark womb on earth from heavenly bliss,  
Regret, as I do at our parting kiss;  
For when I part from thee, though the delight  
Of the kiss is a sunbeam before night;  
Yet I much better should endure the pain,  
Were I but sure that we should kiss again;  
But being uncertain, like a soul in fear,  
Whether it shall return to the same Sphere,  
Or star, or house celestial, whence it came:  
My Cynthia, beauty's queen, thou canst not blame  
My fear, nor my credulity in this,  
If I considering of our parting kiss,  
Shall straight affirm that on thy lip doth dwell  
At once a heavenly pleasure, and a hell;  
For in our kiss is bliss without dimension,  
And in our parting grief, beyond extension:  
O do me then the favour done to those,  
Die on the block, to whom the headsman shows,  
Nor sword, nor axe, nor doth the Traitor know,  
When he will strike, until he feel the blow:  
Use me then so, let's kiss so oft, so fast,  
I may not know, which kiss shall be my last.   

TO CYNTHIA.  
On his absence from her.  
TIll now I doubted whether love, or sight  
Of thy dear beauties (Cynthia) did invite  
My hand to write, or did beget a line,  
That did express my heart was wholly thine:  
But now I am resolved, 'twas not thy face,  
Thy lovely shape, or any outward grace  
Moved me to write, for if that those had been  
The cause, they must have oftentimes been seen;  
Else my long absence, like a sponge would blot  
Those beauties, which not seen, would be forgot:  
But thy rare parts of mind, which I adore,  
Once seen, that's understood, they need no more;  
Or new, or frequent visits to repair  
My memory, or make thee a fresh fair:  
No absence from thee shall have the effect,  
As make me not to love, or not respect:  
Visits are needles, since they only be  
Subjects of fool's discourse, or jealousy:  
Then think me like to those are used to talk  
When they are fast asleep, who rise and walk,  
As well as if they waked, do all things right,  
As if they used their eyes, or had a light:  
Even so will I turn dreamer, and desire  
Nor sight, nor light, but loves internal fire,  
So thou (although no object of my sense)  
Shalt be the subject of love's innocence.   

TO CYNTHIA.  
On his Love after death.  

LEt Lovers that like honey flies  
After balm dropping showers  
Swarming in sunshine of thine eyes,  
Kissing thy beauty's flowers;  
Believe that they do live, while they do taste  
Of all those dainty sweetnesses thou hast.   

Let them believe while they do sip,  
Or while that they have sucked,  
The rosy Nectar of thy lip,  
Or from the rose unplucked,  
Of thy fair cheek, or of thy fragrant breast,  
The aromatic odours of the East.   

Let them believe, that they do live,  
So long as they are said,  
Upon the honey thou dost give,  
Which wanting they are dead:  
For if thou that ambrosial food deny,  
Their loves like souls of beasts do with them die.   

But (Cynthia) that ne'er ending love  
Wherewith I honour thee,  
To be immortal thus I prove,  
For though that absence be  
A truer portraiture of death than sleep,  
Nay a true death, for absent Lovers weep:   

Yet like a long departed soul  
That hath a body lost,  
Hath yet a being to condole,  
So my love like a ghost,  
Remaining follows thee, whose heaven thou art,  
Lives, though not in thine eyes, yet in my heart.    

TO CYNTHIA.  
On her changing.  

DEar Cynthia, though thou bear'st the name  
Of the pale Queen of night,  
Who changing yet is still the same  
Renewing still her light:  
Who monthly doth herself conceal,  
And her bright face doth hide,  
That she may to Endymion steal,  
And kiss him unespide.   

Do not thou so, not being sure,  
When this thy beauty's gone,  
Thou such another canst procure,  
And wear it as thine own,  
For the by-sliding silent hours,  
Conspirators with grief,  
May crop thy beauties lovely flowers,  
Time being a sly thief.   

Which with his wings will fly away,  
And will return no more;  
As having got so rich a prey,  
Nature can not restore:  
Reserve thou then, and do not waste  
That beauty which is thine,  
Cherish those glories which thou hast,  
Let not grief make thee pine.   

Think that the lily we behold,  
Or July-flower may  
Flourish, although the mother mould,  
That bred them be away.  
There is no cause, nor yet no sense,  
That dainty fruits should rot,  
Though the tree die, and wither, whence  
The apricocks were got.    

TO CYNTHIA.  
On her resemblance.  

FOrgive me Cynthia, if (as Poets use,  
When they some divine Beauty would express)  
I Roses, pinks, or July-floures do choose:  
It is a kind of weakness I confess,  
To praise the great'st perfection by a less:  
And is the same, as if one strove to paint  
The holiness or virtues of a Saint.   

Yet there is a necessity imposed,  
For those bright Angels, which we virtues call  
Had not been known, had they not been enclosed  
In precious stones, or things diaphanall:  
The essences and forms celestial,  
Had been concealed, had not the heavenly powers  
Been stamped, and printed on stones, trees, and flowers.   

So thy divine pure soul, and every grace,  
And heavenly beauty it doth comprehend,  
Had not been seen, but for thy lovely face,  
Which with Angel-like features may contend,  
Which into flesh and blood did down descend,  
That she her purest essence might disclose  
In it, as thy fair cheeks do in the Rose.    

TO CYNTHIA.  
On her mother's decease.  

APril is past, then do not shed,  
Nor do not waste in vain,  
Upon thy mother's earthy bed,  
Thy tears of silver rain.   

Thou canst not hope that her cold earth,  
By watering will bring forth,  
A flower like thee, or will give birth,  
To one of the like worth.   

'Tis true the rain fall'n from the sky,  
Or from the clouded air,  
Doth make the earth to fructify,  
And makes the heaven more fair.   

With thy dear face it is not so,  
Which if once overcast,  
If thou rain down thy showers of woe,  
They like the Sirens blast.   

Therefore when sorrow shall becloud,  
Thy fair serenest day,  
Weep not, my sighs shall be allowed  
To chase the storm away.   

Consider that the teeming Vine,  
If cut by chance do weep,  
Doth bear no grapes to make the wine,  
But feels eternal sleep.    

TO CYNTHIA.  
WOnder not Cynthia, thou who art  
Thyself a wonder, whose each part  
Kindles so many amorous flames,  
That Love wants numbers, Beauty names,  
If I that with so much respect,  
Honour, admire, love, and affect  
Thy graces, as no soul can more,  
Yet willing starve in midst of store,  
When as by tying Hymen's knot,  
All thy perfections may be got:  
And I to those high pleasures raised,  
As to enjoy all I have praised:  
Know Cynthia, that Loves purest fire,  
Burns not in act, but in desire:  
Which while it lasts thou mayst be sure,  
My love unsatisfied is pure:  
Thou dost not know, if I enjoyed  
Thy beauties, if I might be cloyed:  
More, all the while I nought enjoy,  
I do not care if thou be coy:  
Nor, if that lying by my side,  
Thy virgin Cystern be untied:  
For Cynthia thou it true shalt prove,  
Hymen not makes, but seals our love.   
FINIS.   

Maii 22. 1641. Imprimatur, THO. WYKES.