When ended was this piteous plaint, the Earth did hold hir peace.She could no lenger dure the heate but was compelde to cease.Into hir bosome by and by she shrunke hir cinged heade More nearer to the Stygian caves, and ghostes of persones deade.The Sire of Heaven protesting all the Gods and him alsoThat lent the Chariot to his child, that all of force must goTo havocke if he helped not, went to the highest partAnd top of all the Heaven from whence his custome was to dart His thunder and his lightning downe. But neyther did remaineA Cloude wherewith to shade the Earth, nor yet a showre of raine.Then with a dreadfull thunderclap up to his eare he bentHis fist, and at the Wagoner a flash of lightning sent,Which strake his bodie from the life and threw it over wheeleAnd so with fire he quenched fire. The Steedes did also reeleUpon their knees, and starting up sprang violently, one here,And there another, that they brast in pieces all their gere.They threw the Collars from their neckes, and breaking quite asunderThe Trace and Harnesse flang away: here lay the bridles: yonder The Extree plucked from the Naves: and in another placeThe shevered spokes of broken wheeles: and so at every paceThe pieces of the Chariot torne lay strowed here and there.But Phaeton (fire yet blasing stil among his yellow haire)Shot headlong downe, and glid along the Region of the Ayre Like to a starre in Winter nights (the wether cleare and fayre)Which though it doe not fall in deede, yet falleth to our sight,Whome almost in another world and from his countrie quiteThe River Padus did receyve, and quencht his burning head.The water Nymphes of Italie did take his carkasse dead And buried it yet smoking still, with Joves threeforked flame,And wrate this Epitaph in the stone that lay upon the same:Here lies the lusty Phaeton which tooke in hand to guideHis fathers Chariot, from the which although he chaunst to slide:Yet that he gave a proud attempt it cannot be denide. Wyth ruthfull cheere and heavie heart his father made great moneAnd would not shew himselfe abrode, but mournd at home alone.And if it be to be beleved, as bruited is by fameA day did passe without the Sunne. The brightnesse of the flameGave light: and so unto some kinde of use that mischiefe came. But Clymen having spoke, as much as mothers usuallyAre wonted in such wretched case, discomfortablely,And halfe beside hir selfe for wo, with torne and scratched brest,Sercht through the universall world, from East to furthest West,First seeking for hir sonnes dead coarse, and after for his bones. She found them by a forren streame, entumbled under stones.There fell she groveling on his grave, and reading there his name,Shed teares thereon, and layd hir breast all bare upon the same.The daughters also of the Sunne no lesse than did their mother,Bewaild in vaine with flouds of teares, the fortune of their brother: And beating piteously their breasts, incessantly did callThe buried Phaeton day and night, who heard them not at all,About whose tumbe they prostrate lay. Foure times the Moone had fildeThe Circle of hir joyned hornes, and yet the sisters hildeTheir custome of lamenting still: (for now continuall use Had made it custome.) Of the which the eldest, Phaetuse,About to kneele upon the ground, complaynde hir feete were nom.To whome as fayre Lampetie was rising for to com,Hir feete were held with sodaine rootes. The third about to teareHir ruffled lockes, filde both hir handes with leaves in steade of heare. One wept to see hir legges made wood: another did repineTo see hir armes become long boughes. And shortly to define,While thus they wondred at themselves, a tender barke beganTo grow about their thighes and loynes, which shortly overranTheir bellies, brestes, and shoulders eke, and hands successively, That nothing (save their mouthes) remainde, aye calling piteouslyUpon the wofull mothers helpe. What could the mother doeBut runne now here now there, as force of nature drue hir toAnd deale hir kisses while she might? She was not so content:But tare their tender braunches downe: and from the slivers went Red drops of bloud as from a wound. The daughter that was rentCride: Spare us mother spare I pray, for in the shape of treeThe bodies and the flesh of us your daughters wounded bee.And now farewell. That word once said, the barke grew over all.Now from these trees flow gummy teares that Amber men doe call, Which hardened with the heate of sunne as from the boughs they falThe trickling River doth receyve, and sendes as things of priceTo decke the daintie Dames of Rome and make them fine and nice.Now present at this monstruous hap was Cygnus, Stenels son,Who being by the mothers side akinne to Phaeton Was in condicion more akinne. He leaving up his charge(For in the land of Ligurie his Kingdome stretched large)Went mourning all along the bankes and pleasant streame of PoAmong the trees encreased by the sisters late ago.Annon his voyce became more small and shrill than for a man. Gray fethers muffled in his face: his necke in length beganFar from his shoulders for to stretche: and furthermore there goesA fine red string acrosse the joyntes in knitting of his toes:With fethers closed are his sides: and on his mouth there grewA brode blunt byll: and finally was Cygnus made a new And uncoth fowle that hight a Swan, who neither to the winde,The Ayre, nor Jove betakes himselfe, as one that bare in mindeThe wrongfull fire sent late against his cousin Phaeton.In Lakes and Rivers is his joy: the fire he aye doth shon,And chooseth him the contrary continually to won. Forlorne and altogether voyde of that same bodie sheneWas Phaetons father in that while which erst had in him bene,Like as he looketh in Th'eclypse. He hates the yrkesome light,He hates him selfe, he hates the day, and settes his whole delightIn making sorrow for his sonne, and in his griefe doth storme -And chaufe denying to the worlde his dutie to performe.My lot (quoth he) hath had inough of this unquiet stateFrom first beginning of the worlde. It yrkes me (though too late)Of restlesse toyles and thankelesse paines. Let who so will for meGo drive the Chariot in the which the light should caried be. If none dare take the charge in hand, and all the Gods persistAs insufficient, he himselfe go drive it if he list,That at the least by venturing our bridles for to guideHis lightning making childlesse Sires he once may lay aside.By that time that he hath assayde the unappalled force That doth remaine and rest within my firiefooted horse,I trow he shall by tried proufe be able for to tellHow that he did not merit death that could not rule them well.The Goddes stoode all about the Sunne thus storming in his rageBeseching him in humble wise his sorrow to asswage. And that he would not on the world continuall darkenesse bring,Jove eke excusde him of the fire the which he chaunst to sling,And with entreatance mingled threates as did become a King.Then Phebus gathered up his steedes that yet for feare did runLike flaighted fiendes, and in his moode without respect begunTo beate his whipstocke on their pates and lash them on the sides.It was no neede to bid him chaufe; for ever as he ridesHe still upbraides them with his sonne, and layes them on the hides.

And Jove almighty went about the walles of heaven to trieIf ought were perisht with the fire, which when he did espie Continuing in their former state, all strong and safe and sound,He went to vew the workes of men, and things upon the ground.Yet for his land of Arcadie he tooke most care and charge.The Springs and streames that durst not run he set againe at large.He clad the earth with grasse, the trees with leaves both fresh and greene Commaunding woods to spring againe that erst had burned bene.Now as he often went and came it was his chaunce to lightUpon a Nymph of Nonacris whose forme and beautie brightDid set his heart on flaming fire. She used not to spinneNor yet to curle hir frisled haire with bodkin or with pinne.A garment with a buckled belt fast girded did she weareAnd in a white and slender Call slight trussed was hir heare.Sometimes a dart sometime a bow she used for to beare.She was a knight of Phebes troope. There came not at the mountOf Menalus of whome Diana made so great account. But favor never lasteth long. The Sunne had gone that dayA good way past the poynt of Noone: when werie of hir wayShe drue to shadowe in a wood that never had bene cut.Here off hir shoulder by and by hir quiver did she put,And hung hir bow unbent aside, and coucht hir on the ground, Hir quiver underneth hir head. Whom when that Jove had foundAlone and wearie: Sure (he said) my wife shall never knowOf this escape, and if she do, I know the worst I trow.She can but chide, shall feare of chiding make me to forslow?He counterfeiteth Phebe streight in countnance and aray. And says: O virgine of my troope, where didst thou hunt to day?The Damsell started from the ground and said: Hayle Goddesse deare,Of greater worth than Jove (I thinke) though Jove himselfe did heare.Jove heard hir well and smylde thereat, it made his heart rejoyceTo heare the Nymph preferre him thus before himselfe in choyce. He fell to kissing: which was such as out of square might seeme,And in such sort as that a mayde coulde nothing lesse beseeme.And as she would have told what woods she ranged had for game,He tooke hir fast betweene his armes, and not without his shame,Bewrayed plainly what he was and wherefore that he came. The wench against him strove as much as any woman could:I would that Juno had it seene. For then I know thou wouldNot take the deede so heynously: with all hir might she strove.But what poore wench or who alive could vanquish mighty Jove?Jove having sped flue straight to heaven. She hateth in hir hart The guiltlesse fields and wood where Jove had playd that naughty part,Alwaye she goes in such a griefe as that she had welnieForgot hir quiver with hir shaftes and bow that hanged by.Dictynna, garded with hir traine and proude of killing Deere,In raunging over Menalus, espying, cald hir neere. The Damsell hearing Phebe call did run away amaine,She feared lest in Phebes shape that Jove had come againe,But when she saw the troope of Nymphes that garded hir about,She thought there was no more deceyt, and came among the rout.Oh Lord how hard a matter ist for guiltie hearts to shift And kepe their countnance? from the ground hir eyes scarce durst she lift.She prankes not by hir mistresse side, she preases not to beeThe foremost of the companie, as when she erst was free.She standeth muet: and by chaunging of hir colour ayThe treading of hir shooe awrie she plainely doth bewray, Diana might have founde the fault but that she was a May.A thousand tokens did appeare apparant to the eye,By which the Nymphes themselves (they say) hir fault did well espie.Nine times the Moone full to the worlde had shewde hir horned faceWhen fainting through hir brothers flames and hunting in the chace. She found a coole and shadie lawnde through midst whereof she spideA shallow brooke with trickling streame on gravell bottom glide.And liking well the pleasant place, upon the upper brimShe dipt hir foote, and finding there the water coole and trim,Away (she sayd) with standers by: and let us bath us here. Then Parrhasis cast downe hir head with sad and bashfull chere.The rest did strip them to their skinnes. She only sought delay,Untill that would or would she not hir clothes were pluckt away.Then with hir naked body straight hir crime was brought to light.Which yll ashamde as with hir hands she would have hid from sight, Fie beast (quoth Cynthia) get thee hence, thou shalt not here defileThis sacred Spring, and from hir traine she did hir quite exile.

The Matrone of the thundring Jove had inckling of the fact,Delaying till convenient time the punishment to exact.There is no cause of further stay. To spight hir heart withall, Hir husbands Leman bare a boy that Arcas men did call.On whome she casting lowring looke with fell and cruell mindeSaide: Was there, arrant strumpet thou, none other shift to findeBut that thou needes must be with barne? that all the world must seeMy husbandes open shame and thine in doing wrong to mee? But neyther unto heaven nor hell this trespasse shalt thou beare.I will bereve thee of thy shape through pride whereof thou wereSo hardy to entyce my Feere. Immediatly with thatShe raught hir by the foretop fast and fiercely threw hir flatAgainst the grounde. The wretched wench hir armes up mekely cast, Hir armes began with griesly haire to waxe all rugged fast.Hir handes gan warpe and into pawes ylfavordly to grow,And for to serve in stede of feete. The lippes that late agoDid like the mightie Jove so well, with side and flaring flapsBecame a wide deformed mouth. And further lest perhaps Hir prayers and hir humble wordes might cause hir to relent:She did bereve hir of hir speach. In steade whereof there wentAn yreful, horce, and dreadfull voyce out from a threatning throte:But yet the selfesame minde that was before she turnde hir cote,Was in hir still in shape of Beare. The griefe whereof she showes By thrusting forth continuall sighes, and up she gastly throwesSuch kinde of handes as then remainde unto the starrie Skie.And forbicause she could not speake she thought Jove inwardlyTo be unthankfull. Oh how oft she daring not abideAlone among the desert woods, full many a time and tideWould stalke before hir house in grounds that were hir owne erewhile?How oft oh did she in the hilles the barking houndes beguileAnd in the lawndes where she hir selfe had chased erst hir game,Now flie hirselfe to save hir life when hunters sought the same?Full oft at sight of other beastes she hid hir head for feare, Forgetting what she was hir selfe. For though she were a Beare,Yet when she spied other Beares she quooke for verie paine:And feared Wolves although hir Sire among them did remaine.Beholde Lycaons daughters sonne that Archas had to nameAbout the age of fiftene yeares within the forrest came Of Erymanth, not knowing ought of this his mothers case.There after pitching of his toyles, as he the stagges did chase,Upon his mother sodenly it was his chaunce to light,Who for desire to see hir sonne did stay hirselfe from flight.And wistly on him cast hir looke as one that did him know. But he not knowing what she was began his heeles to show.And when he saw hir still persist in staring on his face,He was afrayde, and from hir sight withdrew himselfe apace,But when he coulde not so be rid, he tooke an armed pike,In full intent hir through the heart with deadly wound to strike. But God almighty held his hand, and lifting both awayDid disapoint the wicked Act. For straight he did convayThem through the Ayre with whirling windes to top of all the skie,And there did make them neighbour starres about the Pole on hie.When Juno shining in the heaven hir husbands minion found, She swelde for spight: and downe she comes to watry Tethys roundAnd unto olde Oceanus, whome even the Gods aloftDid reverence for their just deserts full many a time and oft,To whome demaunding hir the cause: And aske ye (quoth she) whyThat I which am the Queene of Goddes come hither from the sky? Good cause there is I warrant you. Another holdes my roome.For never trust me while I live, if when the night is coome,And overcasteth all the world with shadie darknesse whole,Ye see not in the heigth of heaven hard by the Northren PoleWhereas the utmost circle runnes about the Axeltree In shortest circuit, gloriously enstalled for to beeIn shape of starres the stinging woundes that make me yll apayde.Now is there (trow ye) any cause why folke should be afraydeTo do to Juno what they list, or dread hir wrathfull mood,Which only by my working harme doe turne my foes to good? O what a mightie act is done? How passing is my powre!I have bereft hir womans shape, and at this present howreShe is become a Goddesse. Loe this is the scourge so sowreWherewith I strike mine enimies. Loe here is all the spightThat I can doe: this is the ende of all my wondrous might, No force. I would he should (for me) hir native shape restore,And take away hir brutish shape, like as he hath beforeDone by his other Paramour, that fine and proper pieceOf Argos whom he made a Cow, I meane Phononeus Niece.Why makes he not a full devorce from me, and in my stead Straight take his Sweetheart to his wife, and coll hir in my bed?He can not doe a better deede (I thinke) than for to takeLycaon to his fatherinlaw. But if that you doe makeAccompt of me your foster childe, then graunt that for my sake,The Oxen and the wicked Waine of starres in number seven,For whoredome sake but late ago receyved into heaven,May never dive within your waves. Ne let that strumpet vyleBy bathing of hir filthie limmes your waters pure defile.

The Gods did graunt hir hir request: and straight to heaven she flue,In handsome Chariot through the Ayre, which painted peacocks drue As well beset with blasing eyes late tane from Argus hed,As thou thou prating Raven white by nature being bred,Hadst on thy fethers justly late a coly colour spred.For this same birde in auncient time had fethers faire and whightAs ever was the driven snow, or silver cleare and bright. He might have well comparde himself in beautie with the DovesThat have no blemish, or the Swan that running water loves:Or with the Geese that afterward should with their gagling outPreserve the Romaine Capitoll beset with foes about.His tongue was cause of all his harme, his tatling tongue did make His colour which before was white, become so foule and blake.Coronis of Larissa was the fairest maide of face,In all the land of Thessalie. Shee stoode in Phebus graceAs long as that she kept hir chast, or at the least as longAs that she scaped unespide in doing Phebus wrong. But at the last Apollos birde hir privie packing spide,Whome no entreatance could persuade but that he swiftly hideHim to his maister, to bewray the doings of his love.Now as he flue, the pratling Crow hir wings apace did move:And overtaking fell in talke and was inquisitive For what intent and to what place he did so swiftly drive.And when she heard the cause thereof, she said: Now trust me sure,This message on the whiche thou goste no goodnesse will procure.And therefore hearken what I say: disdaine thou not at all,To take some warning by thy friende in things that may befall. Consider what I erst have bene and what thou seest me now:And what hath bene the ground hereof. I boldly dare avow,That thou shalt finde my faithfulnesse imputed for a crime.For Pallas in a wicker chest had hid upon a timeA childe calde Ericthonius, whome never woman bare, And tooke it unto Maidens three that Cecrops daughters were,Not telling them what was within, but gave them charge to keepeThe Casket shut, and for no cause within the same to peepe.I standing close among the leaves upon an Elme on hie,Did marke their doings and their wordes, and there I did espie How Pandrosos and Herse kept their promise faithfully.Aglauros calles them Cowardes both, and makes no more adoe,But takes the Casket in hir hand and doth the knots undooe.And there they saw a childe whose partes beneath were like a snake.Straight to the Goddesse of this deede a just report I make. For which she gave me this reward that never might I moreAccompt hir for my Lady and my Mistresse as before.And in my roume she put the fowle that flies not but by night,A warning unto other birdes my lucke should be of rightTo holde their tongues for being shent. But you will say perchaunce I came unsentfor of my selfe, she did me not advaunce.I dare well say though Pallas now my heavie Mistresse standYet if perhaps ye should demaund the question at hir hand,As sore displeased as she is, she would not this denie:But that she chose me first hir selfe to beare hir companie. For (well I know) my father was a Prince of noble fame,Of Phocis King by long discent, Coronew was his name:I was his darling and his joy, and many a welthie Piere(I would not have you thinke disdaine) did seeke me for their Fere.My forme and beautie did me hurt. For as I leysurely Went jetting up and downe the shore upon the gravell drie,As yet I customably doe, the God that rules the SeasEspying me fell straight in love. And when he saw none easeIn sute, but losse of wordes and time, he offred violence,And after me he runnes apace. I skudde as fast fro thence, From sand to shore from shore to sand, still playing Foxe to hole,Untill I was so tirde that he had almost got the gole.Then cald I out on God and man. But (as it did appeare)There was no man so neare at hand that could my crying heare.A Virgin Goddesse pitied me bicause I was a mayde: And at the utter plunge and pinche did send me present ayde.I cast mine armes to heaven, mine armes waxt light with fethers black,I went about to cast in hast my garments from my back,And all was fethers. In my skinne the rooted fethers stack.I was about with violent hand to strike my naked breast, But nether had I hand nor breast that naked more did reast.I ran, but of my feete as erst remained not the print.Me thought I glided on the ground. Anon with sodaine dint,I rose and hovered in the Ayre. And from that instant timeDid wait on Pallas faithfully without offence or crime. But what availes all this to me, and if that in my placeThe wicked wretch Nyctyminee (who late for lacke of graceWas turned to an odious birde) to honor called bee?I pray thee didst thou never heare how false Nyctyminee(A thing all over Lesbos knowne) defilde hir fathers couch? The beast is now become a birde, whose lewdnesse doth so touchAnd pricke hir guiltie conscience that she dares not come in sight,Nor shewe hirselfe abrode a dayes, but fleeteth in the nightFor shame lest folke should see hir fault: and every other birdeDoth in the Ayre and Ivie toddes with wondring at hir girde. A mischiefe take thy tatling tongue, the Raven answerde tho.Thy vaine forspeaking moves me not. And so he forth did goAnd tels his Lorde Apollo how he saw Coronis lieWyth Isthyis, a Gentleman that dwelt in Thessalie.When Phebus heard his lovers fault, he fiersly gan to frowne, And cast his garlond from his head, and threw his violl downe.His colour chaungde, his face lookt pale, and as the rage of yreThat boyled in his belking breast had set his heart on fyre,He caught me up his wonted tooles, and bent his golden bowAnd by and by with deadly stripe of unavoyded blow Strake through the breast the which his owne had toucht so oft afore.She wounded gave a piteous shrike, and (drawing from the soreThe deadly Dart the which the bloud pursuing after fastUpon hir white and tender limmes a scarlet colour cast)Saide: Phebus, well, thou might have wreakt this trespasse on my head And yet forborne me till the time I had bene brought abed.Now in one body by thy meanes a couple shall be dead.Thus muche she saide: and with the bloud hir life did fade away.The bodie being voyde of soule became as colde as clay.Than all too late, alas too late gan Phebus to repent That of his lover he had tane so cruell punishment.He blames himselfe for giving eare so unadvisedly.He blames himselfe in that he tooke it so outragiously.He hates and bannes his faithfull birde bicause he did enformeHim of his lovers naughtinesse that made him so to storme. He hates his bow, he hates his shaft that rashly from it went:And eke he hates his hasty hands by whom the bow was bent.He takes hir up betweene his armes endevoring all too lateBy plaister made of precious herbes to stay hir helplesse fate.But when he saw there was no shift: but that she needes must burne, And that the solemne sacred fire was prest to serve the turne,Then from the bottome of his heart full sorie sighes he fet,(For heavenly powres with watrie teares their cheekes may never wet)In case as when a Cow beholdes the cruell butcher standWith launching Axe embrewd with bloud and lifting up his hand Aloft to snatch hir sucking Calfe that hangeth by the heelesAnd of the Axe the deadly dint upon his forehead feeles.Howbeit after sweete perfumes bestowde upon hir corseAnd much embracing, having sore bewailde hir wrong divorse,He followed to the place assignde hir bodie for to burne.There coulde he not abide to see his seede to ashes turne.But tooke the baby from hir wombe and from the firie flame,And unto double Chyrons den conveyed straight the same.The Raven hoping for his truth to be rewarded well,He maketh blacke, forbidding him with whiter birdes to dwell.