Hero and Leander and Other Poems Part 3

Beneath all these she wrought a fisherman, Drawing his nets from forth the ocean; Who drew so hard, ye might discover well The toughen'd sinews in his neck did swell: His inward strains drave out his blood-shot eyes And springs of sweat did in his forehead rise; Yet was of naught but of a serpent sped, That in his bosom flew and stung him dead: And this by Fate into her mind was sent, Not wrought by mere instinct of her intent.

At the scarf's other end her hand did frame, Near the fork'd point of the divided flame, A country virgin keeping of a vine, Who did of hollow bulrushes combine Snares for the stubble-loving gra.s.shopper, And by her lay her scrip that nourish'd her.

Within a myrtle shade she sate and sung; And tufts of waving reeds about her sprung Where lurk'd two foxes, that, while she applied Her trifling snares, their thieveries did divide, One to the vine, another to her scrip, That she did negligently overslip; By which her fruitful vine and wholesome fare She suffer'd spoil'd, to make a childish snare.

These ominous fancies did her soul express, And every finger made a prophetess, To show what death was hid in love's disguise, And make her judgment conquer Destinies.

O, what sweet forms fair ladies' souls do shroud, Were they made seen and forced through their blood; If through their beauties, like rich work through lawn, They would set forth their minds with virtues drawn, In letting graces from their fingers fly, To still their eyas thoughts with industry: That their plied wits in number'd silks might sing Pa.s.sion's huge conquest, and their needles leading Affection prisoner through their own-built cities, Pinion'd with stories and Arachnean ditties.

Proceed we now with Hero's sacrifice: She odours burn'd, and from their smoke did rise Unsavoury fumes, that air with plagues inspir'd; And then the consecrated sticks she fir'd, On whose pale frame an angry spirit flew, And beat it down still as it upward grew; The virgin tapers that on th' altar stood, When she inflam'd them, burn'd as red as blood: All sad ostents of that too near success, That made such moving beauties motionless.

Then Hero wept; but her affrighted eyes She quickly wrested from the sacrifice, Shut them, and inwards for Leander look'd.

Search'd her soft bosom, and from thence she pluck'd His lovely picture: which when she had view'd, Her beauties were with all love's joys renew'd; The odours sweeten'd, and the fires burn'd clear, Leander's form left no ill object there: Such was his beauty, that the force of light, Whose knowledge teacheth wonders infinite, The strength of number and proportion, Nature had plac'd in it to make it known, Art was her daughter, and what human wits For study lost, entomb'd in drossy spirits.

After this accident, (which for her glory Hero could not but make a history,) Th' inhabitants of Sestos and Abydos Did every year, with feasts propitious, To fair Leander's picture sacrifice: And they were persons of special price That were allow'd it, as an ornament T' enrich their houses, for the continent Of the strange virtues all approv'd it held; For even the very look of it repell'd All blastings, witchcrafts, and the strifes of nature In those diseases that no herbs could cure: The wolfy sting of avarice it would pull, And make the rankest miser bountiful; It kill'd the fear of thunder and of death; The discords that conceit engendereth 'Twixt man and wife, it for the time would cease; The flames of love it quench'd, and would increase; Held in a prince's hand, it would put out The dreadful'st comet; it would ease all doubt Of threatened mischiefs; it would bring asleep Such as were mad; it would enforce to weep Most barbarous eyes; and many more effects This picture wrought, and sprung Leandrian sects; Of which was Hero first; for he whose form, Held in her hand, clear'd such a fatal storm, From h.e.l.l she thought his person would defend her, Which night and h.e.l.lespont would quickly send her.

With this confirm'd, she vow'd to banish quite All thought of any check to her delight; And, in contempt of silly bashfulness, She would the faith of her desires profess, Where her religion should be policy, To follow love with zeal her piety; Her chamber her cathedral-church should be, And her Leander her chief diety; For in her love these did the G.o.ds forego; And though her knowledge did not teach her so, Yet did it teach her this, that what her heart Did greatest hold in her self-greatest part, That she did make her G.o.d; and 'twas less naught To leave G.o.ds in profession and in thought, Than in her love and life; for therein lies Most of her duties and their dignities; And, rail the brain-bald world at what it will, That's the grand atheism that reigns in it still.

Yet singularity she would use no more, For she was singular too much before; But she would please the world with fair pretext; Love would not leave her conscience perplext: Great men that will have less do for them, still Must bear them out, though th' acts be ne'er so ill; Meanness must pander be to Excellence; Pleasure atones Falsehood and Conscience: Dissembling was the worst, thought Hero then, And that was best, now she must live with men.

O virtuous love, that taught her to do best When she did worst, and when she thought it least!

Thus would she still proceed in works divine, And in her sacred state of priesthood shine, Handling the holy rites with hands as bold, As if therein she did Jove's thunder hold, And need not fear those menaces of error, Which she at others threw with greatest terror.

O lovely Hero, nothing is thy sin, Weigh'd with those foul faults other priests are in!

That having neither faiths, nor works, nor beauties, T' engender any 'scuse for slubber'd duties, With as much countenance fill their holy chairs, And sweat denouncements 'gainst profane affairs, As if their lives were cut out by their places, And they the only fathers of the graces.

Now, as with settled mind she did repair Her thoughts to sacrifice her ravish'd hair And her torn robe, which on the altar lay, And only for religion's fire did stay, She heard a thunder by the Cyclops beaten, In such a volley as the world did threaten, Given Venus as she parted th' airy sphere, Descending now to chide with Hero here: When suddenly the G.o.ddess' waggoners, The swans and turtles that, in coupled pheres, Through all worlds' bosoms draw her influence, Lighted in Hero's window, and from thence To her fair shoulders flew the gentle doves,-- Graceful aedone that sweet pleasure loves, And ruff-foot Chreste with the tufted crown; Both which did kiss her, though their G.o.ddess frown.

The swans did in the solid flood, her gla.s.s, Proin their fair plumes; of which the fairest was Jove-lov'd Leucote, that pure brightness is; The other bounty-loving Dapsilis, All were in heaven, now they with Hero were: But Venus' looks brought wrath, and urged fear.

Her robe was scarlet; black her head's attire; And through her naked breast shin'd streams of fire, As when the rarified air is driven In flashing streams, and opes the darken'd heaven.

In her white hand a wreath of yew she bore; And, breaking th' icy wreath sweet Hero wore, She forc'd about her brows her wreath of yew, And said, "Now, minion, to thy fate be true, Though not to me; endure what this portends: Begin where lightness will, in shame it ends.

Love makes thee cunning; thou art current now, By being counterfeit: thy broken vow Deceit with her pied garters must rejoin, And with her stamp thou countenances must coin; Coyness, and pure deceits, for purities, And still a maid wilt seem in cozen'd eyes, And have an antic face to laugh within, While thy smooth looks make men digest thy sin, But since thy lips (least thought forsworn) forswore, Be never virgin's vow worth trusting more!"

When Beauty's dearest did her G.o.ddess hear Breathe such rebukes 'gainst that she could not clear, Dumb sorrow spake aloud in tears and blood, That from her grief-burst veins, in piteous flood, From the sweet conduits of her favour fell.

The gentle turtles did with moans make swell Their shining gorges; the white black-ey'd swans Did sing as woful epicedians.

As they would straightways die: when Pity's queen, The G.o.ddess Ecte, that had ever been Hid in a watery cloud near Hero's cries, Since the first instant of her broken eyes, Gave bright Leucote voice, and made her speak, To ease her anguish, whose swoln breast did break With anger at her G.o.ddess, that did touch Hero so near for that she us'd so much; And, thrusting her white neck at Venus, said: "Why may not amorous Hero seem a maid, Though she be none, as well as you suppress In modest cheeks your inward wantonness?

How often have we drawn you from above, T' exchange with mortals rites for rites in love!

Why in your priest, then, call you that offence, That shines in you, and is your influence?"

With this, the Furies stopp'd Leucote's lips, Enjoin'd by Venus; who with rosy whips Beat the kind bird. Fierce lightning from her eyes Did set on fire fair Hero's sacrifice, Which was her torn robe and enforced hair; And the bright flame became a maid most fair For her aspect: her tresses were of wire, Knit like a net, where hearts, set all on fire, Struggled in pants, and could not get releast; Her arms were all with golden pincers drest, And twenty-fashion'd knots, pulleys, and brakes, And all her body girt with painted snakes; Her down-parts in a scorpion's tail combin'd, Freckled with twenty colours; pied wings shin'd Out of her shoulders; cloth had never dye, Nor sweeter colours never viewed eye, In scorching Turkey, Cares, Tartary, Than shin'd about this spirit notorious; Nor was Arachne's web so glorious.

Of lightning, and of shreds she was begot; More hold in base dissemblers is there not.

Her name was Eronusis. Venus flew From Hero's sight, and at her chariot drew This wondrous creature to so steep a height, That all the world she might command with sleight Of her gay wings; and then she bade her haste,-- Since Hero had dissembled, and disgrac'd Her rites so much,--and every breast infect With her deceits: she made her architect Of all dissimulation; and since then Never was any trust in maids or men.

O, it spited Fair Venus' heart to see her most delighted, And one she choos'd, for temper of her mind, To be the only ruler of her kind, So soon to let her virgin race be ended!

Not simply for the fault a whit offended, But that in strife for chasteness with the Moon, Spiteful Diana bade her show but one That was her servant vow'd, and liv'd a maid; And, now she thought to answer that upbraid, Hero had lost her answer: who knows not Venus would seem as far from any spot Of light demeanour, as the very skin 'Twixt Cynthia's brows? sin is asham'd of sin.

Up Venus flew, and scarce durst up for fear Of Ph?be's laughter, when she pa.s.s'd her sphere: And so most ugly-clouded was the light, That day was hid in day; night came ere night; And Venus could not through the thick air pierce, Till the day's king, G.o.d of undaunted verse, Because she was so plentiful a theme To such as wore his laurel anademe, Like to a fiery bullet made descent, And from her pa.s.sage those fat vapours rent, That, being not thoroughly rarified to rain, Melted like pitch, as blue as any vein; And scalding tempests made the earth to shrink Under their fervour, and the world did think In every drop a torturing spirit flew, It pierc'd so deeply, and it burn'd so blue.

Betwixt all this and Hero, Hero held Leander's picture, as a Persian shield; And she was free from fear of worst success: The more ill threats us, we suspect the less: As we grow hapless, violence subtle grows, Dumb, deaf, and blind, and comes when no man knows.

THE FIFTH SESTIAD

THE ARGUMENT OF THE FIFTH SESTIAD

Day doubles her accustomed date, As loath the Night, incens'd by Fate, Should wreck our lovers. Hero's plight; Longs for Leander and the night: Which ere her thirsty wish recovers, She sends for two betrothed lovers, And marries tham, that, with their crew, Their sports, and ceremonies due, She covertly might celebrate, With secret joy, her own estate.

She makes a feast, at which appears The wild nymph Teras, that still bears An ivory lute, tells ominous tales, And sings at solemn festivals.

Now was bright Hero weary of the day, Thought an Olympiad in Leander's stay.

Sol and the soft-foot Hours hung on his arms, And would not let him swim, forseeing his harms: That day Aurora double grace obtain'd, Of her love Ph?bus; she his horses reign'd, Set on his golden knee, and, as she list, She pull'd him back; and, as she pull'd, she kiss'd, To have him turn to bed: he lov'd her more, To see the love Leander Hero bore: Examples profit much; ten times in one, In persons full of note, good deeds are done.

Day was so long, men walking fell asleep; The heavy humours that their eyes did steep Made them fear mischiefs. The hard streets were beds For covetous churls and for ambitious heads, That, spite of Nature, would their business ply: All thought they had the falling epilepsy, Men grovell'd so upon the smother'd ground; And pity did the heart of Heaven confound.

The G.o.ds, the Graces, and the Muses came Down to the Destinies, to stay the frame Of the true lovers' deaths, and all world's tears: But Death before had stopp'd their cruel ears.

All the celestials parted mourning then, Pierc'd with our human miseries more than men: Ah, nothing doth the world with mischief fill, But want of feeling one another's ill!

With their descent the day grew something fair, And cast a brighter robe upon the air.

Hero, to shorten time with merriment, For young Alcmane and bright Mya sent, Two lovers that had long crav'd marriage-dues At Hero's hands: but she did still refuse; For lovely Mya was her consort vow'd In her maid state, and therefore not allow'd To amorous nuptials: yet fair Hero now Intended to dispense with her cold vow, Since hers was broken, and to marry her: The rites would pleasing matter minister To her conceits, and shorten tedious day.

They came; sweet Music usher'd th' odorous way, And wanton Air in twenty sweet forms danc'd After her fingers; Beauty and Love advanc'd Their ensigns in the downless rosy faces Of youths and maids, led after by the Graces.

For all these Hero made a friendly feast, Welcom'd them kindly, did much love protest, Winning their hearts with all the means she might, That, when her fault should chance t' abide the light, Their loves might cover or extenuate it, And high in her worst fate make pity sit.

She married them; and in the banquet came, Borne by the virgins. Hero striv'd to frame Her thoughts to mirth: ay me! but hard it is To imitate a false and forced bliss; Ill may a sad mind forge a merry face, Nor hath constrained laughter any grace.

Then laid she wines on cares to make them sink: Who fears the threats of Fortune, let him drink.

To these quick nuptials enter'd suddenly Admired Teras with the ebon thigh; A nymph that haunted the green Sestian groves, And would consort soft virgins in their loves, At gaysome triumphs and on solemn days, Singing prophetic elegies and lays, And fingering of a silver lute she tied With black and purple scarfs by her left side.

Apollo gave it, and her skill withal, And she was term'd his dwarf, she was so small: Yet great in virtue, for his beams enclos'd His virtues in her; never was propos'd Riddle to her, or augury, strange or new, But she resolv'd it; never slight tale flew From her charm'd lips without important sense, Shown in some grave succeeding consequence.

This little sylvan, with her songs and tales, Gave such estate to feasts and nuptials, That though ofttimes she forewent tragedies, Yet for her strangeness still she pleas'd their eyes; And for her smallness they admir'd her so, They thought her perfect born, and could not grow.

All eyes were on her. Hero did command An altar deck'd with sacred state should stand At the feast's upper end, close by the bride, On which the pretty nymph might sit espied.

Then all were silent; every one so hears, As all their senses climb'd into their ears: And first this amorous tale, that fitted well Fair Hero and the nuptials, she did tell.

_The Tale of Teras_

Hymen, that now is G.o.d of nuptial rites, And crowns with honour Love and his delights, Of Athens was a youth, so sweet a face, That many thought him of the female race; Such quickening brightness did his clear eyes dart, Warm went their beams to his beholder's heart, In such pure leagues his beauties were combin'd, That there your nuptial contracts first were sign'd; For as proportion, white and crimson, meet In beauty's mixture, all right clear and sweet, The eye responsible, the golden hair, And none is held, without the other, fair; All spring together, all together fade; Such intermix'd affections should invade Two perfect lovers; which being yet unseen, Their virtues and their comforts copied been In beauty's concord, subject to the eye; And that, in Hymen, pleas'd so matchlessly, That lovers were esteem'd in their full grace, Like form and colour mix'd in Hymen's face; And such sweet concord was thought worthy then Of torches, music, feasts, and greatest men: So Hymen look'd, that even the chastest mind He mov'd to join in joys of sacred kind; For only now his chin's first down consorted His head's rich fleece, in golden curls contorted; And as he was so lov'd, he lov'd so too: So should best beauties, bound by nuptials, do.

Bright Eucharis, who was by all men said The n.o.blest, fairest, and the richest maid Of all th' Athenian damsels, Hymen lov'd With such transmission, that his heart remov'd From his white breast to hers: but her estate, In pa.s.sing his, was so interminate For wealth and honour, that his love durst feed On naught but sight and hearing, nor could breed Hope of requital, the grand prize of love; Nor could he hear or see, but he must prove How his rare beauty's music would agree With maids in consort; therefore robbed he His chin of those same few first fruits it bore, And, clad in such attire as virgins wore, He kept them company; and might right well, For he did all but Eucharis excel In all the fair of beauty: yet he wanted Virtue to make his own desires implanted In his dear Eucharis; for women never Love beauty in their s.e.x, but envy ever.

His judgment yet, that durst not suit address, Nor, past due means, presume of due success, Reason gat Fortune in the end to speed To his best prayers: but strange it seem'd, indeed, That Fortune should a chaste affection bless: Preferment seldom graceth bashfulness.

Nor grac'd it Hymen yet; but many a dart, And many an amorous thought, enthrill'd his heart, Ere he obtain'd her; and he sick became, Forc'd to abstain her sight; and then the flame Rag'd in his bosom. O, what grief did fill him!

Sight made him sick, and want of sight did kill him.

The virgins wonder'd where Diaetia stay'd, For so did Hymen term himself, a maid.

At length with sickly looks he greeted them: 'Tis strange to see 'gainst what an extreme stream A lover strives; poor Hymen look'd so ill, That as in merit he increased still By suffering much, so he in grace decreas'd: Women are most won, when men merit least: If Merit look not well, Love bids stand by; Love's special lesson is to please the eye.

And Hymen soon recovering all he lost, Deceiving still these maids, but himself most, His love and he with many virgin dames, n.o.ble by birth, n.o.ble by beauty's flames, Leaving the town with songs and hallow'd lights, To do great Ceres Eleusina rites Of zealous sacrifice, were made a prey To barbarous rovers, that in ambush lay, And with rude hands enforc'd their shining spoil, Far from the darken'd city, tir'd with toil: And when the yellow issue of the sky Came trooping forth, jealous of cruelty To their bright fellows of this under-heaven, Into a double night they saw them driven,-- A horrid cave, the thieves' black mansion; Where, weary of the journey they had gone, Their last night's watch, and drunk with their sweet gains, Dull Morpheus enter'd, laden with silken chains, Stronger than iron, and bound the swelling veins And tired senses of these lawless swains.

But when the virgin lights thus dimly burn'd, O, what a h.e.l.l was heaven in! how they mourn'd, And wrung their hands, and wound their gentle forms Into the shapes of sorrow! golden storms Fell from their eyes; as when the sun appears, And yet it rains, so show'd their eyes their tears: And, as when funeral dames watch a dead corse, Weeping about it, telling with remorse What pains he felt, how long in pain he lay, How little food he eat, what he would say, And then mix mournful tales of others' deaths, Smothering themselves in clouds of their own breaths; At length, one cheering other, call for wine; The golden bowl drinks tears out of their eyne, As they drink wine from it; and round it goes, Each helping other to relieve their woes; So cast these virgins' beauties mutual rays, One lights another, face the face displays; Lips by reflection kiss'd, and hands hands shook, Even by the whiteness each of other took.

But Hymen now us'd friendly Morpheus' aid, Slew every thief, and rescu'd every maid: And now did his enamour'd pa.s.sion take Heart from his hearty deed, whose worth did make His hope of bounteous Eucharis more strong; And now came Love with Proteus, who had long Juggled the little G.o.d with prayers and gifts, Ran through all shapes, and varied all his shifts, To win Love's stay with him, and make him love him; And when he saw no strength of sleight could move him To make him love or stay, he nimbly turn'd Into Love's self, he so extremely burn'd.

And thus came Love, with Proteus and his power, T' encounter Eucharis: first, like the flower That Juno's milk did spring, the silver lily, He fell on Hymen's hand, who straight did spy The bounteous G.o.dhead, and with wondrous joy Offer'd it Eucharis. She, wondrous coy, Drew back her hand: the subtle flower did woo it, And, drawing it near, mix'd so you could not know it: As two clear tapers mix in one their light, So did the lily and the hand their white.

She view'd it; and her view the form bestows Amongst her spirits: for, as colour flows From superficies of each thing we see, Even so with colours forms emitted be; And where Love's form is, Love is; Love is form: He enter'd at the eye; his sacred storm Rose from the hand, Love's sweetest instrument: It stirr'd her blood's sea so, that high it went, And beat in bashful waves 'gainst the white sh.o.r.e Of her divided cheeks; it rag'd the more, Because the tide went 'gainst the haughty wind Of her estate and birth: and, as we find, In fainting ebbs, the flowery Zephyr hurls The green-hair'd h.e.l.lespont, broke in silver curls, 'Gainst Hero's tower; but in his blast's retreat, The waves obeying him, they after beat, Leaving the chalky sh.o.r.e a great way pale, Then moist it freshly with another gale; So ebb'd and flow'd in Eucharis's face, Coyness and Love striv'd which had greatest grace; Virginity did fight on Coyness' side, Fear of her parents' frowns, and female pride Loathing the lower place, more than it loves The high contents desert and virtue moves.

With Love fought Hymen's beauty and his valure, Which scarce could so much favour yet allure To come to strike, but fameless idle stood: Action is fiery valour's sovereign good.

But Love, once enter'd, wish'd no greater aid Than he could find within; thought thought betray'd; The brib'd, but incorrupted, garrison Sung "Io Hymen"; there those songs begun, And Love was grown so rich with such a gain, And wanton with the ease of his free reign, That he would turn into her roughest frowns To turn them out; and thus he Hymen crowns King of his thoughts, man's greatest empery: This was his first brave step to deity.

Home to the mourning city they repair, With news as wholesome as the morning air, To the sad parents of each saved maid: But Hymen and his Eucharis had laid This plat, to make the flame of their delight Round as the moon at full, and full as bright.

Because the parents of chaste Eucharis Exceeding Hymen's so, might cross their bliss; And as the world rewards deserts, that law Cannot a.s.sist with force; so when they saw Their daughter safe, take vantage of their own, Praise Hymen's valour much, nothing bestown; Hymen must leave the virgins in a grove Far off from Athens, and go first to prove, If to restore them all with fame and life, He should enjoy his dearest as his wife.

This told to all the maids, the most agree: The riper sort, knowing what 'tis to be The first month of a news so far deriv'd, And that to hear and bear news brave folks liv'd, As being a carriage special hard to bear Occurrents, these occurrents being so dear, They did with grace protest, they were content T' accost their friends with all their compliment, For Hymen's good; but to incur their harm, There he must pardon them. This wit went warm To Adolesche's brain, a nymph born high, Made all of voice and fire, that upwards fly: Her heart and all her forces' nether train Climb'd to her tongue, and thither fell her brain, Since it could go no higher; and it must go; All power she had, even her tongue, did so: In spirit and quickness she much joy did take, And lov'd her tongue, only for quickness' sake; And she would haste and tell. The rest all stay: Hymen goes one, the nymph another way; And what became of her I'll tell at last: Yet take her visage now;--moist-lipp'd, long-fac'd, Thin like an iron wedge, so sharp and tart, As 'twere of purpose made to cleave Love's heart: Well were this lovely beauty rid of her.

And Hymen did at Athens now prefer His welcome suit, which he with joy aspir'd: A hundred princely youths with him retir'd To fetch the nymphs; chariots and music went And home they came: heaven with applauses rent.

The nuptials straight proceed, whiles all the town, Fresh in their joys, might do them most renown.

First, gold-lock'd Hymen did to church repair, Like a quick offering burn'd in flames of hair; And after, with a virgin firmament The G.o.dhead-proving bride attended went Before them all: she look'd in her command, As if form-giving Cypria's silver hand Gripp'd all their beauties, and crushed out one flame; She blush'd to see how beauty overcame The thoughts of all men. Next, before her went Five lovely children, deck'd with ornament Of her sweet colours, bearing torches by; For light was held a happy augury Of generation, whose efficient right Is nothing else but to produce to light.

The odd disparent number they did choose, To show the union married loves should use, Since in two equal parts it will not sever, But the midst holds one to rejoin it ever, As common to both parts: men therefore deem That equal number G.o.ds do not esteem, Being authors of sweet peace and unity, But pleasing to th' infernal empery, Under whose ensigns Wars and Discords fight, Since an even number you may disunite In two parts equal, naught in middle left To reunite each part from other reft; And five they hold in most especial prize, Since 'tis the first odd number that doth rise From the two foremost numbers' unity, That odd and even are; which are two and three; For one no number is; but thence doth flow The powerful race of number. Next, did go A n.o.ble matron, that did spinning bear A huswife's rock and spindle, and did wear A wether's skin, with all the snowy fleece, To intimate that even the daintiest piece And n.o.blest-born dame should industrious be: That which does good disgraceth no degree.

And now to Juno's temple they are come, Where her grave priest stood in the marriage-room: On his right arm did hang a scarlet veil, And from his shoulders to the ground did trail, On either side, ribands of white and blue: With the red veil he hid the bashful hue Of the chaste bride, to show the modest shame, In coupling with a man, should grace a dame.

Then took he the disparent silks, and tied The lovers by the waists, and side by side, In token that hereafter they must bind In one self-sacred knot each other's mind.

Before them on an altar he presented Both fire and water, which was first invented, Since to ingenerate every human creature And every other birth produc'd by Nature, Moisture and heat must mix; so man and wife For human race must join in nuptial life.

Then one of Juno's birds, the painted jay, He sacrific'd, and took the gall away; All which he did behind the altar throw, In sign no bitterness of hate should grow, 'Twixt married loves, nor any least disdain.

Nothing they spake, for 'twas esteem'd too plain For the most silken mildness of a maid, To let a public audience hear it said, She boldly took the man; and so respected Was bashfulness in Athens, it erected To chaste Agneia, which is Shamefacedness, A sacred temple, holding her a G.o.ddess.

And now to feasts, masks, and triumphant shows, The shining troops return'd, even till earth-throes Brought forth with joy the thickest part of night, When the sweet nuptial song, that us'd to cite All to their rest, was by Phemonoe sung, First Delphian prophetess, whose graces sprung Out of the Muses' well: she sung before The bride into her chamber; at which door A matron and a torch-bearer did stand: A painted box of confits in her hand The matron held, and so did other some That compa.s.s'd round the honour'd nuptial room.

The custom was that every maid did wear, During her maidenhead, a silken sphere About her waist, above her inmost weed, Knit with Minerva's knot, and that was freed By the fair bridegroom on the marriage-night, With many ceremonies of delight: And yet eternis'd Hymen's tender bride, To suffer it dissolv'd so, sweetly cried.

The maids that heard, so lov'd and did adore her, They wish'd with all their hearts to suffer for her.

So had the matrons, that with confits stood About the chamber, such affectionate blood, And so true feeling of her harmless pains, That every one a shower of confits rains; For which the bride-youths scrambling on the ground, In noise of that sweet hail her cries were drown'd.

And thus blest Hymen joy'd his gracious bride, And for his joy was after deified.

The saffron mirror by which Ph?bus' love, Green Tellus, decks her, now he held above The cloudy mountains: and the n.o.ble maid, Sharp-visag'd Adolesche, that was stray'd Out of her way, in hasting with her news, Not till this hour th' Athenian turrets views; And now brought home by guides, she heard by all, That her long kept occurrents would be stale, And how fair Hymen's honours did excel For those rare news which she came short to tell.

To hear her dear tongue robb'd of such a joy, Made the well-spoken nymph take such a toy, That down she sunk: when lightning from above Shrunk her lean body, and, for mere free love, Turn'd her into the pied-plum'd Psittacus, That now the Parrot is surnam'd by us, Who still with counterfeit confusion prates Naught but news common to the common'st mates.-- This told, strange Teras touch'd her lute, and sung This ditty, that the torchy evening sprung.

_Epithalamion Teratos._

Come, come, dear Night! Love's mart of kisses, Sweet close of his ambitious line, The fruitful summer of his blisses!