ΕΡΩΤΟΠΑΙΓΝΙΟΝ. The Loves of HERO and LEANDER, A Greek poem, WRITTEN BY MUSAEUS, Translated by Sir ROBERT STAPYLTON Knight, Gent. in Ordinary of the Privy Chamber to the PRINCE. OXFORD, Printed by Henry Hall. 1645. TO THE RIGHT honourable MY VERY GOOD LORD, HENRY Lord marquess of DORCHESTER, Earl of KINGSTON, &c. And one of the Lords of His majesty's most Honourable Privy counsel. MY LORD, THe secret love of Hero and Leander first brought to light in the pure Greek of divine Musaeus, was afterward new moulded in Latin by the fluent Ovid; in imitation of whose Epistles, the most eminent poets of all Climates have (in their native languages) written upon this subject so many Paraphrases and essays, that like the numerous streams of Nile, they almost overflow the remembrance of their fountain. I confess the report of poems borrowed from Musaeus made so great a noise, that to me the author had been lost in the crowd of his imitators, if I had not heard his soft lines sweetened by your Lordship's accent; but then, I could not be satisfied till I made trial how the Greek would go in English: my intent being to translate and dedicate it privately to your Lordship. The Translation was forthwith dispatched, the Dedication is now presented, but the intended privacy lay not in my power; for my acquaintance (who would know what I was doing) had engaged me for so many Copies, that I held it my safest course, rather to venture upon the Printers pardonable errors, then to run the hazard of gross mistakes in ignorant Transcribers. Yet, as I could not make it altogether private, so I resolved it should not be altogether public, and have therefore suffered no more to be printed, than the just number promised; which coming into friends hands, I cannot fear any rigid censure. But if some pretending critic shall assault me, I shall smile to see him retire with double speed, beholding the name of the illustrious and learned person that privileges Your Lordship's most humble servant, ROBERT STAPYLTON. Musaeus, ON THE LOVES OF HERO and LEANDER. SPeak goddess, of the Torch, a witness made To love stolen, Nuptials convoyed through the shade, Ne'er seen by th' incorrupted morning-light; Of Sestos and Abydos: here by night Leander swimming, Hero married there. Hark, the Torch ruffled by the wind I hear, The steering Torch that did to Venus' guide, The flaming signal of the clouded Bride, The Torch that for night-service airy Jove Should make a star, the star of wandering Love, The marriage-star, because it still gave aim, And watched the marriage-houres with sleepless flame; Till by the rude wind th' envious Gust was blown; And then (ay me) change Hymen's softer tone, And let our Verse with one sad close be crowned, O'th' Torch extinguished, and Leander drowned. Upon the seashore, parted by the flood Two Cities Sestos and Abydos stood, Just o'rethwart neighbours; his bow Cupid bent, And to both Cities the same Arrow sent, Wherewith a youth and virgin were inflamed, He sweet Leander, she chaste Hero named, He at Abydos, she at Sestos borne; Stars, like each other, which their towns adorn. Do me a favour if you pass that way, Ask for the tower where Sestian Hero lay, And held the Torch, wafting Leander o'er: Ask for his Dwelling on the adverse shore, Where still his funerals old Abydos keeps, And in his Love's and Death's remembrance weeps. But dwelled he at Abydos? how then came He to love Hero, she to catch his flame? Fair Hero, virgin-priestess to the Power Of Venus, her great Parents in a tower From them apart, near to the Sea had placed; Another Venus, but so strictly chaste, That she at female meetings ne'er appeared, Nor her young play-mates charming Dances heard, Regardful women's envy to decline, For at a Beauty women will repine. But she with incense Venus still appeased, Oft with his heavenly Mother Cupid pleased, Whose Quiver trembles full of shafts that glow, But yet those flaming shafts she scap't not so. The Sestians now that Feast they so much prize To Venus and Adonis solemnize. O'er to this holiday in boats-full throng All th' Islanders that to the Sea belong; Some from Aemonia, from moist Cyprus some, All Phrygia, all Cythera's women come; None dance on Libanon in perfumed air; No passengers but to this Feast repair; There wants of neighbouring Abydos none; Of young men that love maids not any one, For they to follow will be sure, where fame Shall celebration of a Feast proclaim. Not that th' immortal Gods their zeal pursues, But troops of mortal beauties to peruse. Now through the Temple Virgin-Hero past, And from her face a lovely splendour cast, Like the clear moon when rising she's beheld; Her snowy cheeks in scarlet circles swollen, So looks the blowing damask Rose, You'd swear In Hero gardens full of Roses were. She blushed all over, in the polished stone Beneath her feet reflected Roses shone. From her flowed many Graces; then of old They lied that Men but of three Graces told, For in each smiling eye of Hero sprung A hundred Graces: Thus said every tongue, Venus hath now a priestess worthy her, All men this maid to her whole Sex prefer, Venus priestess a new Venus seems, So her the heart of conquered Youth esteems. Nor was there any but he Hero loved, And wished she were his Bride: where e'er she moved Through the strong fabric of that sacred place, Alleys all hearts and longings went her pace. One Youth admiring of her spoke these words, I've seen what beauty Sparta's Clime affords, And what in Lacedaemon so much takes, Where Beauty to the world her Challenge makes; But one so sweet so modest I've not seen, Sure one o'th' Graces here attends love's Queen? I've tired my sight, not satisfied my eye, Let me but sleep with Hero and then die. I would not wish to be a power divine, So I might live at home, and Hero mine▪ But if unto thy priestess to pretend Be sacrilege, one like her, Venus', send. Thus every youth said: there another had A wound, and with concealing it ran mad. But brave Leander, this rare maid when thou Beheldst, thou wouldst not of dumb wounds allow, But at the fiery arrow's very fall Thou'lt with fair Hero live, or not at all. Love at her eye-beams did his torches light, And fired Leander's bosom at first sight. For beauty in a maid whose fame is pure, Flies like the feathered shaft, and hits more sure. The eyes are loopholes, her eye's fatal dart Glanced through his eye, and gazed upon his heart. Amazement, fear, shame, impudence, he felt; His sense amazed on her perfections dwelled, His heart shook, shame restrained him, love controlled That shame, and made him impudently bold. He softly walked and stood before the maid, And to her slily a side-look conveyed, With silent eyes fording the virgin's mind. When she Leander's cunning love did find, She joyed in her own beauty: and even She Oft lifted her fair eyes by stealth to see Leander's face, than looked away again; He joyed that he did love, nor she disdain. While now a private hour Leander watched, Day to the West the light's small stock dispatched, Pointblank the shadowed evening-star appeared. Then to approach her he no longer feared, But as he saw the sky with sables hung He silently her rosy fingers wrung, And fetched a deep sigh: she did nothing say, But, as if angry, snatched her hand away. Finding her discomposure he grew bold, And of her rich flowered vesture taking hold Pulled her into the Temples secretest part: As 'twere a Pilgrimage against her heart Lingeringly followed the slow-footed maid, And threatening, thus in womens' language said: What, stranger, art thou mad? why pull'st thou so A maid? away, leave, let my garment go. Shun my rich Parents anger. To court me, Priestess to Venus, it befits not thee. 'Tis hard to come unto a Virgin's bed. Thus lessons, maids are perfect in, she read. Leander hearing female fury sound, The symptoms straight of yielding virgins found, For when with men maids once are furious grown Their very threatenings promise them our own. Then her sweet-smelling pure-skinned neck he kissed, And spoke these words, wherein love's pangs assist. Venus' next Venus, Pallas whom I love, Next Pallas, daughters to Saturnian Jove, For by no mortal form art thou expressed▪ Blessed he that got thee, she that bare thee blessed; The womb most happy that did thee create! Hear thou my prayer, and pity my love's fate. Priestess to Venus like to Venus do, Come, be the priestess of her pleasures too, These ceremonies learn: a maid and be Priestess to Venus, it befits not thee. Maids Venus loves not; her true rites if thou Wouldst know, they are the nuptial bed and vow. Do you love Venus? Love's soft laws fulfil, Call me your servant (call me, if you will, Your husband) chased and caught by Cupid's art, Brought to your service by his golden dart, As rough Alcides by the golden wand Of Hermes, to the Lydian Maid's command; But in this voyage to your presence made My steps sweet Venus not fly Hermes swayed. Th' Arcadian Virgin Atalanta fled (Thou know'st) affectionate Milanion's bed, In love with single life; this Venus moved, Who made the once-despised her sole-beloved. Dear, be more kind lest Venus take it ill. Thus he persuaded her against her will, softening her mind with love and passion mixed; Silently on the ground her eye she fixed, Ashamed the twilight should her blushes meet, Repolishing the marble with her feet, And gathering, at every little check Given by her heart, her robe about her neck. All tokens that a maid's consent forerun, Who if she do but lose her tongue, she's won. Love's bitter-sweeteness now she working felt, Fair Hero's heart a gentle flame did melt, Leander's lineaments her soul amazed. But while her eye upon the pavement gazed, On her fair neck his never-wearied sight He fixed, until prevented by the night, The dew, that long had on her blushes hung, Then dropped, and these words from her sweetest tongue. Stranger, thy words might on a rock have wrought, Who thee the various ways of Courtship taught? Who did (alas) thee to my Country send? But all which thou hast spoke is to no end, For how a wandering stranger as thou art And faithless, can I fix thee in my heart? Nor can we marry publicly 'tis clear, For of no marriage will my parents hear. And should my Country thee a stranger shroud, Thy dark love could not long be in a cloud; News with advantage slander will unfold, What's done in corners in highways is told. Yet let me know thy name and native coast; My great name Hero I suppose thou know'st. In this vast tower dwell but my maid and I. And though my native Sestos be so nigh, Such is the doom my cruel Parents give, I banished thence must the Seas neighbour live. Nor with young maids at Dancings I appear, But day and night from Sea winds blustering hair. Thus speaking, with her veil her face she hide, Again blushed, and herself for speaking chid. Leander, on love's highest torture racked, Was soon inspired how love's design to act. For man's heart powerful Cupid conquers twice, First with his arrows, then with his advice; Which ever heals the wounds his arrows made. While he that hurts us doth our cure persuade. He helped love-posed Leander to revolve; Who lastly sighing uttered this Resolve: Virgin, to come to thee, I would not fear Billows of fire, or water though it were Innavigable: to arrive thy bed, No deep gulf no high flowing tide I dread; But thy wet servant shall the waves confront, And nightly swim the raging Hellespont. Only on your high Turret set a light Which shining in diameter by night, I may become Love's ship, that light my star, Beholding which, not looking up so far As slow Boots, or the frozen wain, Or rough Orion, I may safely gain My obvious native soil: but (dearest) watch For fear the boisterous wind the flame should catch, And blow my life out, which to air must slide With that bright flame unto my life the guide. Of what I am, if you more knowledge claim, Leander is fair Hero's husbands name Their secret marriage their night-league thus made, The Torch love's ensign was to be displayed. She to set up the Light, he did indent To swim the Sea: their nuptial Eve thus spent, Against their wills they part, she to her Tower; He, least dark night his sense might overpower, Took marks to know the tower by, and sailed o'er To fair Abydos his strong native shore, Both longing for a whole night's marriage-fight, Oft wishing for the bed-adorning night. Night now soft rest upon her raven wings To all but to love-sick Leander brings, Who on the loud Sea's ever-chasing Bay, Did but for Hymen's shining summons stay, Expecting the sad Torch, and to be led By that bright usher to his private bed. As soon as e'er thick darkness veiled the night Hero advanced the Torch, which then gave Light; Leander's eager spirits Cupid fired, And as the Torch burned, still his flame aspired. But from Sea hearing th' angry billows scold, At first he trembled, after growing bold, Thus speaking to himself his heart he eased, Love's cruel, the Sea not to be appeased; But the Sea's water, I Love's fire contain, Heart drink in fire, and scorn the flowing Maine. 'Gainst lovers what by Sea can be contrived? Know'st not, that Venus from the Sea's derived, Who both the Ocean, and our stars commands? Then his fair limbs he stripped with both his hands, Turbanded with his silken robe his head, Leapt from the shore, o'th' waves his body spread, And up against the flaming torch still bore, Himself the ship, the pilot, and the oar. On her high turret Hero watched the flame, And as stiff gales from any quarter came, Still screened it with the sacred robe she wore, Till tired Leander reached the Sestian shore. Down from the Turret Hero making haste, Her breathless husband at the gates embraced, And to her bedchamber in silence led, There wiped his locks that trickling foam still shed, And anointed him with roses that consumed Th' offensive smell, and left him all perfumed; Twining about him then, yet panting laid On her soft down, these softer words she said. Husband, th' haste laboured sore, exceeding sore, Husband, th' haste laboured much, no husband more; Fish-slime and brine have made thy penance great, Come now, into my bosom drop thy sweat. Thus she, he straight untied her zone, and they The laws of gentle Venus did obey. They had a wedding, but no Dancing there, A bridebed, but they did no singing here; Their sacred Nuptials no Poet praised, About their private Bed no torches blazed, No Dancer in a nimble caper sprung, No hymns the Father or grave Mother sung. But darkness at love's hours the bridebed made, Dressed up the room, the Bride's veil was the shade. Far from epithalamiums were they matched; Night only at their ceremonies watched; Aurora never did Leander view, A bridegroom in that bed he so well knew. Who swam back to Abydos, breathing still Those hymeneal sweets that never fill. But long-veyled Hero mocked her parent's sight, A Virgin all the day, a Wife by night; Both often chid the Morning to the West, And thus the fury of their loves suppressed, Enjoying secret but short-lived delights, For short time dates their strange stolen marriage-rites. Approaching Winter in a moment forms The sky's Vertigo into horrid storms, The howling winds as with a besom sweep The wet false bottom of the boiling deep, Calked ships which Mariners dare not commit, To faithless Seas are in the harbour split. But no rough Winter-Sea can thee affright, Strong-souled Leander, but when th' once kind Light, Now false and cruel, gave thy love the sign, Fearless thou leapdst into fierce Neptune's Brine. Unhappy Hero should, now winter came, Have spared Leander, no more fed the flame Ofth at frail Comet, by whose blaze they held Their night-commerce; but love and fate compelled. And now upon the lofty Turret reared Fates brand, no longer Hymen's torch appeared. 'Twas Night, when most the winds their spirits spent, And 'gainst the shore their rallied forces bent, When with accustomed hope Leander fed, Climbed liquid mountains bound for Hero's bed, Wave upon wave was piled, the Maine wrought high, Th' earth shook, the Sea was mingled with the sky, The winds fell out, the East and west-wind fought, The South against the North strong tempests brought, The merciless and foaming surges roared; Poor youth he seaborn Venus oft implored, Oft Neptune King of Seas would have inclined, And Boreas of Atthis put in mind, But none helped. Fate by Love was not controlled, Quite over him the justling billows rolled; His strong legs fail him, motionless now stands The nimble vigour of his active hands, The water down his throat at pleasure flowed, The giddy Seas their useless drink bestowed. And the false torch out as the sharp wind tossed, His Love and Life bemourned Leander lost. The Sea her waking eyes did still survey, And in her sad breast flowed another sea. Day not her Husband Hero seeing then, The Sea's broad back viewed to the utmost ken, To see if anywhere Leander came, Who, as the torch went out, might lose his aim. But when she saw him on the billows borne At her tower foot, and by the rocks all torn, She near her heart rent her embroidered gown, And to the body, shriking out, leapt down. For her lost Husband she herself destroyed, And even in death each other they enjoyed. FINIS.