Seven Minor Epics of the English Renaissance (1596-1624) Part 13

Or if the sunne of bewtie shoote at thee his fiery shafts, O tell me and the rather, Because thy confidence shal answer'd be, With this my childe Ile hide it from thy father As doth a dying man hold fast what so he grasps so she her feruent armes bout her Nurse claspes and nuzzels once more twixt those dugs her face whilst ore those Ilands flow salt teares apace.

That word of father was like _Persey's_ shield, to make the poore maid stone, now nurse doth threat Vnlesse she will in gentle manner yeeld, she would to morrow shew how in a heat She would haue made away her desperate life, and she must tell the man that forc'd that strife within her brest through feare she thus did frame and made her toung the trumpet of her shame.

Her voyce halfe stopt with sighes (O fatal voice) p.r.o.nounc'd these words, yet did the acc[=e]ts faile: How blessed is my mother in her choise, How fully she with nature did preuaile.

This said, her blushing face sinkes in her shroud like _Cinthia_ m.u.f.fel'd in an enuious cloud.

When loe, the dying taper in his toombe, gaue darknes to it selfe and to the roome.

Now had she time to waile, and well she might, Guiltie of sorrow, there might you haue seene: As glow wormes adde a tincture to the night, Glimmering in pallid fire, vppon some greene, mixt with the dew, so did her eyes appeare, Each goulden glance ioyn'd with a dewy teare, oft shut her eyes, like starres that portend ill, with b.l.o.o.d.y deluge, they their orbes did fill.

The Nurse amated with the latter wordes, whose aged haires stood vp like siluer wire: Knew speech was vaine, where will the scope affords & whispering softly, saies childe thy desire Ile put into thy armes, sleepe, seize thy head, Tis now nights no one, all but the stars seem dead, Our vanities like fire-works will ascend, Vntil they breake, vncertaine where to end.

Neuer did mortall with a vicious thought, wish to bring vices Embrion to aforme: But still the prince of darknesse to them brought occasions fore-locke, which they off have torne.

Sin like a Cedar shadowes all our good: Whilst vertues bounded like a narrow flood.

As see now, how the occasion of misfortune; Mirrha's much abus'd-mother did importune.

Now came the time, of _Ceres_ sacred rite, and Misteries, when all wives young and olde Cloathed in vailes, all of transparent white, Kneele to her, and to the Attick priest vnfolde, The firstlings of the fiel'd wreath'd gilded corne, Chaplets of dill, pluckt in a blushing morne, And many such, nor may they husbands see, In nine daies, till they end their misterie.

Now nurse was double diligent, watching her time and told old _Cynitas_ a louely maide Sigh'd for him: and still with cupps of wine betwixt each word his pallat she a.s.saide.

Heated with wines, he bad the Nurse repaide, and bring to him the Maide that was so faire, _Bacchus_ & _Venus_, Wine and frolicke l.u.s.t, are sworne to blood, and keepe togither must.

_Mirrha_ no sooner heard this glad reply, but as a poore bird long time in a snare, Ready for fammine and her woe to die, whom an vnskilful fouler vnaware hath guiuen freedome, to her foode doth hast, so Mirrha thought each houre an age was past: In her strict torments but being scapt away, her woes forgot, she thinkes vppon her prey.

And as she did ascend those staires to l.u.s.t, in the midway, she heard her father speake: And nere lay partridge closer to the dust, at sound o' the Faulccons bell, then she too weak To encounter or resist: and feares are such, in loue by loue, that they enccrease loue much.

Loue like to Monarkes, hath his state hie reared who euer wil be lou'd, where they are feared.

To a hundred seueral pa.s.sions she doth yeeld, and as we see in Autumne of the yere Some gallant oake stand ready to be feld, vppon whose ribs a hundred wounds appeare Forc'd by the brawnie armes of Hynds vnlithe, who workes a pa.s.sage to the weeping pith: Vncertaine (though wind shaken) where to fall: so stood her mynd doutful of rest at al.

Nurse opes the doore, and brings her to the bed the darkenesse of the night abated shame: And leaues her that must leaue her maiden head to the begetter of his owne defame, With faultring hams hauing got twixt the sheetes, In fearefull l.u.s.t this _Prodegiae_ meetes, He begs a kisse, then blusht she as he spake it, yet he must giue it, shee wants power to take it.

Now trembling lay she by her fathers side, like filly doue within the Eagles gripe: Nor doth she vse soft shrikes as doth a bride, (I meane a maide) when as the fruite so ripe Of maiden-head, forced from their wombe, Her fathers armes to her was as a tombe.

She dead in pleasure, durst not shew her voice, least _Cyniras_ should know this faire foule choice.

But when that Cupid once had whetted her, she twines her lilly stalks about his necke: So clings young _Ivie_ bout the aged oake there, _Venus_ smile, but frowning _Iuno_ checks.

Their stolne delight, no nuptiall tapers shone, No Virgin belt vntyed, but all vndone, the Athenian G.o.d, kindled no hallowed fires, darke was the night, suiting to their desires.

The morrow came, toyled with wakes and l.u.s.t, she leaues her father, when as the rising Sun Couering the easterne Pines and mountaine dust, spyed Mirrha from her couch of sin to runne.

Then blusht he first, and backward would ha fled And euer since in's rising hee's still red, Nere Turkas was at sicke blood more estrang'd, then Mirrha when her chast.i.tie was chang'd.

Oft would she leane against her fathers knees, & tie his garter in a true loue's knot: And then vndoo't againe, as to shew she were vndone, yet he conceiu'd it not.

And woman like that, keep not secrets long, she shewd her loue in d[=u]b shewes with out tung, her l.u.s.t she knew (yet hardly it concealde) like Fayries Treasur's vanish'd if reueal'd.

A third night came, darker then sh.o.r.es belowe, when Cyniras (father of feareful l.u.s.t) Willing to see the foule that did bestowe So many pleasures on him (Ioue is iust) Did reach a taper, whose confusiue light, Strucke like a blasting at that horrid sight.

The light fell from him loathing his defame, things senceles oft are mou'd, wh[=e] men not shame.

At length with bloodie eye fixed on her, out of an Iuorie scabberd hanging by: He drew a monumental Semiter, thinking with death that both their shames shold dye But night that oft befriended her with sinne, In her blacke wombe too, did her freedome win, For through the darke she slipt, and left her fire, to mourne his Fate, not execute his ire.

Sped with her l.u.s.t, and flying thence apace, in feares and trembling, feare doth giue vs eies: For saftie to the G.o.ds, she lifts her face, & her claspt hands to what she now not see's, loues browe was darke, Boetes had amaine Driuen his Oxen to the lower plaine.

Phebae fled heauen, her face no tincture beares, Because shee saw a deed, worthie her teares.

The morning came, where yet the fatall print of Mirrha lay vpon the pillow: _Cynix_ he Clog'd with distresse, a fathers cursse did hint, vpon that place of foule inchast.i.tie, the sight of what we loath, breedes loathing more and vertue once renounc'd ingenders store, Leaue we him touz'd in care, for worldly wee, loue to leaue great men in their miserie.

Seauen winters nights, she fled before the Moone (who knew the vnchaste act she had inforc'd) Through _Arabie_, in feare she posteth soone, To odorous Panchaia, whose confines diuorc'd Her fathers land: here grew all choicest fumes: That to Ioues temples often men presumes: and on his altars them acc.u.mulate, and how they first sprung, here thereof the Fate.

_Hebae_ now banish'd from th' _Aetherian_ boule vppon a feast day mongst the G.o.ds aboue, Where twas made lawfull, all without controule, might freely drink it chanc'd the Queen of loue Whether she long'd, or enuied _Hebes_ starre, (Women are enuious, where they long for nectar) forc'd her to skinke so much, the iuice ran ore, so that Ioues drinke washt the defiled flore.

With this he storm'd, that's Priests from altars flie streight banish'd _Hebae_, & the world did thinke To a second Chaos they should turned be, the clouds for feare wept out th' immortal drinke and on _Panchaia_ there this Nectar fell, Made rich th' adiacent lands with odorous smell, and such rare spices to the sh.o.a.res are giuen, as Ioue would thinke no Nectar were in heauen.

There was a Satire rough and barbarous, pleasing his pallat at a trembling spring: Vnder a Beech with bowes frondiferous, though he had seene a nimph or rarer thing Then flesh and blood, for in the calmed streame, He saw her eyes like stars, whose raies did gleame Boue Phoebus farre, and so amazed stood, as if she had bin G.o.ddesse of that flood.

And as you see a man that hath bin long Possessed with a furie of the shades: after some prayers and many a sacred song, with blessed signes, the euill spirit vades, so fell his rudenesse from him, and her shine, Made all his earthie parts pure and diuine.

O potent loue, great is thy power be falne, That makes the wife mad, & the mad man calme.

Thus he begins, fairer then Venus farre, If Venus be, or if she be tis thee: Louelie as Lillies, brighter then the starre that is to earth the mornings Mercurie: Softer then Roses, sweeter breath'd then they, blush't boue _A_urora, better cloath'd then May.

lipt like a cherrie, but of rarer taste, Deuine as Dian, and as fully chaste.

Pardon my rude tongue, if I chance to erre, as Hermes selfe might erre being the G.o.d of Eloquence: for your bright eye doth beare all earthly blessings in a faire abode, Excuse me if I trip, I meane your weale, Error's no error, where tis done with zeale.

Loue like materiall fires is made to flame: When tis supprest with fanning Fires first came.

With this, the Maid (so took) hung down her head wondring that such a shape had such a tongue: able to steale her loue, had she not fled, and from his ardent gripes, her body wrung.

Flying like _Phebae_ after strucken deere: and as he follow'd she fled more for feare.

_Zephire_ came foorth, to dally with her haire, while the poore Satire cried stay maide so faire.

But he on sudden like a subtill Snake, rould in a heape, shootes foorth himself at l[=e]gth; and to his vigorous armes greedie doth take, his yeilding prey, won with his words not str[=e]gth To be a woman, is by nature giuen, But to be constant, is a star, which heauen Hath seald on their s.e.x forehead as a signe, That constancie in women is diuine.

Thou didst deceiue me Mirrha, when I saide, thou flew'st for feare, thou gau'st me cause to fear and I might iustlie haue this gainst thee laide, thou wentst t' auide by pathes that were so nere Who begin, ill most often end in ill, and she that doth her first pure youth so spill In lawles l.u.s.t, though made a wife to one, Remaines like wax for each impression.

But see the goodnesse of the Deities, who still with grace preuents our ill presage, This groue was hallow'd to no Hiadres, but chast Diana, who with violent rage Discending from her towre of Christalline, To keepe the place still sacred and diuine: against her rites, brought with her thereupon white Poplar from the banckes of _Acheron_:

Then with a charme, that did her face eclips, And made her crescent quak, the iuice she powers Vpon the Satirs face, and prophane lipps, which quickly ouer all his body showers, Her borrow'd power of art being finished: (Deriued from Phoebus as her light) she saide, Nine-times the holy rime, which spok will clere, all prophane matter, and this spake she there.

Sleepe Poplar sleepe, that was the Satirs name, who had bin long a king within these woods, Since thou my sacred Groue, gan to prophane: a sleepe seize on thee, still as stigian floods, by Stix I vow the partiall destenies, Did they conspire, shold nere vnclaspe thin eies, hauing thus said, the Satire vanisht so, as mens prospect that from a mirrour goe.

I thinke (quoth she) accursed is this place, for heere the man, for whome I sorrow now, Heedelesse Acteon with immodest face, saw all our naked and did ouer-vewe: As men rich iuells doe, thinking there lies yet some rare vertue hidden from their eyes: And euen there quoth shee, & then did point, reuen'gd, I saw his hounds teare ioint from ioint.

But since saies she, thou as a King didst reigne, and art a Trophey too of _Dians_ power: Thus much the G.o.ddesse of the floods doth deign to change thy shape, into a vertick flower.

Then thrice three words, thrice striking charmed wood The ground did crannie, and there out of hand, appeared greene Poplar, younger then before, which bow'd the head & dyan did adore.

The palefac'd Mirrha sat like guiltie spright, fore the infernall iudge, yet did not see Diana great, for dull are mortalls sight, (and all inuisible is chast.i.tie) But heard a voice as she was vanishing, saying defild maide, doost wonder at this thing?

O Mirrha ere my crescents beautie change, thou shalt be turn'd into a shape as strange.

With this the verdant new sprung Poplar plant (moou'd with the winde) seemd to bow down the head as cheering Mirrha, who did comfort want being amaz'd at what Diana saide, Hauing recouer'd sence, she flies the place, For feare of Phebaes comming to the chace: to Saba land she hies, where all affraide, my muse shall sing the downfall of the Maide.

Then first hung downe Poplar his heauie braine, for Mirrha's losse, whose loue brought him that and for he once in woods a King did raigne, a crowne hee still wear's, richly wrought with blew and yellow eke, as figures both of loue, Which Venus dropt downe him from aboue.

Bacchus doth loue him, for in feasts of wine, he weares a poplar Garland mixt with vine.

The leaden G.o.d of sleepe, on his iuice feede, the vertues of him, sundry doe declare: His suddain taste a heauinesse doth breede, and drownes in rest, sences opprest with care, In places farre remote, he loues to growe, and eke by rivers that runne thicke and slowe, where drowsilie this woodish demie G.o.d, with euerie gale of winde his head doth nod.

Now to proceede after a small repose, that the accursed seede gan swell her wombe, wh[=e] her drie brain, no more teares could expose she weayting for a sad and heauie dombe.