Seven Minor Epics of the English Renaissance (1596-1624) Part 14

For often men offending, still doe feare, Though Ioue be farre off, yet his iudgements nere downe would she sit, and so vnfolde her moane that Eccho sight hirs and forgot her owne.

Distressed twixt the teadiousnesse of life, and trembling feare of death, she thus began: For when we cease to be the crimes are rife, which youth committed, and before vs then.

For aged memorie doth clasp't containe, Those shapes of sin, which hot blood held as vain.

O cursed Fates quoth she, that brought to pa.s.se this prodegie twixt me and Cyniras.

O leaue to leape for ioy, thou prettie childe, to Heare of Cyniras, or ile leaue rather: To speake of him, whose bed I haue defilde, & made him proue thy Grandsire & thy Father Was I predestin'd to select no other, But fated for the sister and the Mother, of thee my babe, heauen here hath beene sinister the childe shall call his grandsire, son his mother sister.

Oft doe two Roses grow out from one stem, and one of them is full blowne fore the other, So fares it now with thee my virgin iem, whome nature would call sonne but shame saies brother Shall I not blush when thou art ripe, to gather The circ.u.mstances of who was thy Father, yes sure I shall, yet shame forgets all shame, Ile charge thy father of a heauenly name.

But oh, I feare me least some Prodegie, the heauens agree, that I to light should bring; to fright ee'n the yron age, that chast.i.tie might take example by my suffering.

That I a monster-mother should be made, If soe, O ouer equall G.o.ds, let _Mirrha_ fade into some shape, worthy your high deuice, Pitty to me, would make Ioue seeme vnwise.

Alter O G.o.ds, death that is due to birth, nor let the dead repine, that I should see Eliziums blest shades, nor the men of earth annoided be with my impuritie, Let them enioy the fieldes, and learned Songes, Of hye brow'd Orpheus, let the vnflesht thronges that haue deseru'd this, and much more be glad, my starres, my double life, and fate, are sad.

You wearyed race of Danans vnblest girles, In vaine leaue off your vnwomb'd tubs to fill, & with your teares that staynd ye Indyan pearles, Weepe out for Mirrha, and ere night you will at my sad story orebrim with your teares, Your whirle-poole vessells, which so many yeres return'd no interest, if you well deplore, you'le drowne in teares, or labour so no more.

C[=o]clude my fate, quicke you eternall counsell, or else I feare the nere-erturned dead Clad in the fearefull shapes of night and h.e.l.l, will rife before the general day be spred; and hurrie me in flesh to Acheron, To taste hels torture both in soule and bone: Then blast me thunderer in righteous ire, and I like _Semele_ wil meete thy fire.

The G.o.ds to her last wish was tractable.

her tongue percullist twice was as she spake: aire was her voice, and Mirrha now not able, to thanke the G.o.ds, her ioynts in sunder brake.

Leaues were her locks, of golden haire bereau'd, her armes long boughes, deem & be not deceiu'd tree gan she be, yet twixt her thing so staid, you could not say she was or tree or maide.

First grew her hayre vp like the Summer Corne, or as a blazing starre whose streames rise vpward & being changd, fell leaues, that vp were borne, by the rude windes, yet had you but haue heard You'd sware, a sigh for Mirrha's transmigration Had beene decreed by all the windie nation.

and euerie Autume, since a thing moste rare, The falling leaues, resemble Mirrha's haire.

To barke her yuorie skin polisht congeald, each blew rig'd current into melting sap, Her nailes to bolssome faire, & what reueal'd with accents sad, the babe yet in her lap.

Her fingers twigs, her bright eyes turn'd to gum, Buried on earth, and her owne selfe the toombe, her sences gone, yet this sence did she win, to aye relent, the horror of her sinne.

For euen as from a guilty man, that's pleading for remorse, teares follow teares, as hoping to preuaile, So from this tree, (though now a senceleffe course) flowe pretious teares, as seemes she doth bewaile In death, with euer liuing teares, the act fore-done These _Pius_ drops, made densiue by the sunne, are kept for holy vses, and the Mir, That so distilles, doth beare the name of her.

The misbegotten babie, swels the tree, and loathing the defiled wombe sought vent: Those panges that mothers haue felt shee, and solemne sighes had issue, as they'd rent, and spoile the shape, she newly had a.s.sum'd, But wordes within the close bark were inhumbd Yet wept it out, as it to water would, Or seem'd it mockt Pactolus waues of golde.

Till chast Lucina, whome the Poets giue, The mid-wiues power in producing creatures, by whose change we last die, and first doe liue, (be they not violent each) she that giues features Forme or takes away, makes foule or faire, Discending from her Spheare next to our ayre: with armes yspred, vppon the melting mir, brought diuine comfort downe from heau[=e] with her

Few wordes she spake, but euery sillable, of power to comfort the afflicted Ghostes; Or any other sencelesse thing make able, doe better deedes then those _Alcides_ boastes, the tree streight craynes, & springs forth the child who the first minut, though his countenance smild cryed out a maine, our first propheticke breath, showes our first houre, is mother to our death.

The water Nymphes then caught him tenderly, who laid him streight on the enameled bankes, and bath'd him with his mothers teares, whereby they made him fairer, and in merry prankes The Ladies call a conuocation there, Some praise his nose, his lips, his eye, his eare.

Some his streight fingers, whilst a fist doth sweare his verry breath yet smelleth of the mirre.

Another wishes, oh for such a face!

Nor can I blame her though she did wish so: For sure, were I a wench, t'had bin my case, for nature heere, made both her ioy and woe, And spight that (but herself) commendeth none, Of force must say, this was a rarer one Then either nature did, or ere shall make, whose life holdes vp her age, whose deathe's her wrack.

Eyes like two stars falne from their proper sphears as if they scorn'd the beaten pathes of heauen: Or enuying of beautie of the beares, showne firmer heere, and brighter then the seau[=e]

Such was he as was Cupid wont to be In pictures lim'd, and that they may agree, furnish the babe with winges and quiuer light, or from loues G.o.d, take wings, and quier quite.

Nought may compare with Time in his swift race the babe ere while feeles now youths hot alarms And as in yeares, so beautious grew his face, that he is fit againe for Ladies armes: Nor Cupid now could wound more dames th[=e] he That Venus who Captiues all, is not free From her own power, she loue's Adonis milde, That Mars doth storm, & wish he were no childe.

Nor Paphos, Amathus nor fishie Gnide, delights she now to haunt, nor Etna now Burnes more then her, she roans the wood so wide after her game, that to his game doth bow.

And will not heare or see, for eies and eares, If they her heare or see, their vse forbeares Yet she persues, and leaues her power vn euen on heauen & earth, she loues him more th[=e] heau[=e].

Oft would she say, and bathe those words in tears oh thou fair boy, wold G.o.d thou loudst like me but sure thou art not flesh, it well appeares, thou wert the stubborne issue of a tree, So hard thou art, then she a sigh would fet, and wish that Vulcan had not made his net, For boysterous Mars, shee'd fayner ha' bin sped with this choice floure, claspt in her yron bed.

Shee'd nere haue blusht, th[=e] she does make a vow though al the G.o.ds of both worlds had th[=e] seen She raveth that she euer lou'd til now, that she might worthily ha bin loues Queene.

wel, wel (quoth she) thou hast reueng'd the spight which from my accurst Sons bow did fowly light On thy faire Mother, O immortall boy, Though thou be faire, tis I that should be coy.

But stay my Muse in thine owne confines keepe, & wage not warre with so deere lou'd a neighbor, But hauing sung thy day song, rest & sleepe preserue thy small fame and his greater fauor: His song was worthie merrit (_Shakspeare_ hee) sung the faire blossome, thou the withered tree _Laurell_ is due to him, his art and wit hath purchast it, _Cypres_ thy brow will fit.

FINIS.

Hiren: _OR_ The faire Greeke:

_By_ William Barksted, _one of_ the seruants of his Maiesties Revels.

Ovid.

----_nonparuas animo dat gloria vires, Et fecunda facit pectora laudis amor._

_LONDON_:

Printed for _Roger Barnes_, and are to be sold at his shop in Chancery lane, ouer against the Rolles. 1611.

TO THE HEROICKE HE ros, Henry Earle of Oxenford, _Vicount Bulbeck_, &c.

_Sir, if my unpolish't pen, that dedicates new The bashfull utterance of a maiden Muse, May gracefully arrive onely to you, Which for her virgin sake, do not refuse, Time, and more studious howers shall we vow, To sing your vertues, which are now profuse.

Kings haue drunke water from a louing hand, And truth's accepted, though we paint her poore.

The Poets say, the G.o.ds that can command, Haue feasted gladly on a poore mans store, Whereby great Sir, we haue to understand, That humble Riuers adde to the seash.o.r.e.

Liue long and happy, and with gray haires crown'd, Reade thy youths acts, which fame shall euer sound._

Your honors obseruant seruant,

Wil. Barksted.

The faire Greeke.

1

Of _Amuraths_ yong spleenfull sonne I sing, His sonne, who to the Strand of _h.e.l.lespont_ And to the great Sea-cost his bounds did bring, Whose Empire so the _Grecians_ did confront, That euen from _Pindus_, and _Thomao_ Mont.

From darke _Morea_ to _Corinthian_ streights, From _Burgon_ to _Hungaria's_ broken wing, His Nauy fetch'd contributary freights.

2