Peneian Daphne was the first where Phebus set his love,Which not blind chaunce but Cupids fierce and cruel wrath did move.The Delian God but late before surprisde with passing prideFor killing of the monstrous worme, the God of love espide,With bowe in hand alredy bent and letting arrowes go:To whome he sayd, and what hast thou thou wanton baby so With warlike weapons for to toy? It were a better sight,To see this kinde of furniture on my two shoulders bright:Who when we list with stedfast hand both man and beast can wound,Who tother day wyth arrowes keene, have nayled to the groundThe serpent Python so forswolne, whose filthie wombe did hideSo many acres of the grounde in which he did abide.Content thy selfe sonne, sorie loves to kindle with thy brand,For these our prayses to attaine thou must not take in hand.To him quoth Venus sonne againe, well Phebus I agreeThy bow to shoote at every beast, and so shall mine at theeAnd looke how far that under God eche beast is put by kinde,So much thy glorie lesse than ours in shooting shalt thou finde.This saide, with drift of fethered wings in broken ayre he flue,And to the forkt and shadie top of Mount Parnasus drue.There from hys quiver full of shafts two arrowes did he take Of sundrie workes: t'one causeth Love, the tother doth it slake.That causeth love, is all of golde with point full sharpe and bright,That chaseth love is blunt, whose stele with leaden head is dight.The God this fired in the Nymph Peneis for the nones:The tother perst Apollos heart and overraft his bones. Immediatly in smoldring heate of Love the t'one did swelt,Againe the tother in hir heart no sparke nor motion felt.In woods and forrests is hir joy, the savage beasts to chase,And as the price of all hir paine to take the skinne and case.Unwedded Phebe doth she haunt and follow as hir guide, Unordred doe hir tresses wave scarce in a fillet tide.Full many a wooer sought hir love, she lothing all the rout,Impacient and without a man walkes all the woods about.And as for Hymen, or for love, and wedlocke often soughtShe tooke no care, they were the furthest end of all hir thought. Hir father many a time and oft would saye: My daughter deere,Thow owest me a sonneinlaw to be thy lawfull feere.Hir father many a time and oft would say: My daughter deere,Of Nephewes thou my debtour art, their Graundsires heart to cheere.She hating as a haynous crime the bonde of bridely bed Demurely casting downe hir eyes, and blushing somwhat red,Did folde about hir fathers necke with fauning armes: and sed:Deare father, graunt me while I live my maidenhead for to have,As to Diana here tofore hir father freely gave.Thy father (Daphne) could consent to that thou doest require, But that thy beautie and thy forme impugne thy chaste desire:So that thy will and his consent are nothing in this case,By reason of the beautie bright that shineth in thy face.Apollo loves and longs to have this Daphne to his Feere,And as he longs he hopes, but his foredoomes doe fayle him there. And as light hame when corne is reapt, or hedges burne with brandes,That passers by when day drawes neere throwe loosely fro their handes,So into flames the God is gone and burneth in his brestAnd feedes his vaine and barraine love in hoping for the best.Hir haire unkembd about hir necke downe flaring did he see, O Lord and were they trimd (quoth he) how seemely would she bee?He sees hir eyes as bright as fire the starres to represent,He sees hir mouth which to have seene he holdes him not content.Hir lillie armes mid part and more above the elbow bare,Hir handes, hir fingers and hir wrystes, him thought of beautie rare.And sure he thought such other parts as garments then did hyde,Excelled greatly all the rest the which he had espyde.But swifter than the whyrling winde shee flees and will not stay,To give the hearing to these wordes the which he had to say:I pray thee Nymph Penaeis stay, I chase not as a fo: Stay Nymph: the Lambes so flee the Wolves, the Stags the Lions so.With flittring feathers sielie Doves so from the Gossehauke flie,And every creature from his foe. Love is the cause that IDo followe thee: alas alas how would it grieve my heart,To see thee fall among the briers, and that the bloud should start Out of thy tender legges, I, wretch, the causer of thy smart.The place is rough to which thou runst, take leysure I thee pray,Abate thy flight, and I my selfe my running pace will stay.Yet would I wishe thee take advise, and wisely for to vieweWhat one he is that for thy grace in humble wise doth sewe. I am not one that dwelles among the hilles and stonie rockes,I am no sheepehearde with a Curre, attending on the flockes:I am no Carle nor countrie Clowne, nor neathearde taking chargeOf cattle grazing here and there within this Forrest large.Thou doest not know, poore simple soule, God wote thou dost not knowe, From whome thou fleest. For if thou knew, thou wouldste not flee me so.In Delphos is my chiefe abode, my Temples also standeAt Glaros and at Patara within the Lycian lande.And in the Ile of Tenedos the people honour mee.The king of Gods himselfe is knowne my father for to bee. By me is knowne that was, that is, and that that shall ensue,By mee men learne to sundrie tunes to frame sweete ditties true.In shooting have I stedfast hand, but surer hand had heeThat made this wound within my heart that heretofore was free.Of Phisicke and of surgerie I found the Artes for neede, The powre of everie herbe and plant doth of my gift proceede.Nowe wo is me that nere an herbe can heale the hurt of loveAnd that the Artes that others helpe their Lord doth helpelesse prove.
As Phoebus would have spoken more, away Penaeis staleWith fearefull steppes, and left him in the midst of all his tale. And as she ran the meeting windes hir garments backewarde blue,So that hir naked skinne apearde behinde hir as she flue,Hir goodly yellowe golden haire that hanged loose and slacke,With every puffe of ayre did wave and tosse behinde hir backe.Hir running made hir seeme more fayre, the youthfull God therefore Coulde not abyde to waste his wordes in dalyance any more.But as his love advysed him he gan to mende his pace,And with the better foote before, the fleeing Nymph to chace.And even as when the greedie Grewnde doth course the sielie Hare,Amiddes the plaine and champion fielde without all covert bare, Both twaine of them doe straine themselves and lay on footemanship,Who may best runne with all his force the tother to outstrip,The t'one for safetie of his lyfe, the tother for his pray,The Grewnde aye prest with open mouth to beare the Hare away,Thrusts forth his snoute and gyrdeth out and at hir loynes doth snatch, As though he would at everie stride betweene his teeth hir latch:Againe in doubt of being caught the Hare aye shrinking slipsUpon the sodaine from his Jawes, and from betweene his lips:So farde Apollo and the Mayde: hope made Apollo swift,And feare did make the Mayden fleete devising how to shift. Howebeit he that did pursue of both the swifter went,As furthred by the feathred wings that Cupid had him lent,So that he would not let hir rest, but preased at hir heeleSo neere that through hir scattred haire she might his breathing feele.But when she sawe hir breath was gone and strength began to fayle The colour faded in hir cheekes, and ginning for to quayle,Shee looked to Penaeus streame and sayde: Nowe Father dere,And if yon streames have powre of Gods then help your daughter here.O let the earth devour me quicke, on which I seeme too fayre,Or else this shape which is my harme by chaunging straight appayre. This piteous prayer scarsly sed: hir sinewes waxed starke,And therewithall about hir breast did grow a tender barke.Hir haire was turned into leaves, hir armes in boughes did growe,Hir feete that were ere while so swift, now rooted were as slowe.Hir crowne became the toppe, and thus of that she earst had beene, Remayned nothing in the worlde, but beautie fresh and greene.Which when that Phoebus did beholde (affection did so move)The tree to which his love was turnde he coulde no lesse but love,And as he softly layde his hande upon the tender plant,Within the barke newe overgrowne he felt hir heart yet pant. And in his armes embracing fast hir boughes and braunches lythe,He proferde kisses to the tree, the tree did from him writhe.Well (quoth Apollo) though my Feere and spouse thou can not bee,Assuredly from this tyme forth yet shalt thou be my tree.Thou shalt adorne my golden lockes, and eke my pleasant Harpe, Thou shalt adorne my Quyver full of shaftes and arrowes sharpe.Thou shalt adorne the valiant knyghts and royall Emperours:When for their noble feates of armes like mightie conquerours,Triumphantly with stately pompe up to the Capitoll,They shall ascende with solemne traine that doe their deedes extoll. Before Augustus Pallace doore full duely shalt thou warde,The Oke amid the Pallace yarde aye faythfully to garde,And as my heade is never poulde nor never more withoutA seemely bushe of youthfull haire that spreadeth rounde about,Even so this honour give I thee continually to have Thy braunches clad from time to tyme with leaves both fresh and brave.Now when that Pean of this talke had fully made an ende,The Lawrell to his just request did seeme to condescende,By bowing of hir newe made boughs and tender braunches downe,And wagging of hir seemely toppe, as if it were hir crowne.
There is a lande in Thessalie enclosd on every sydeWith wooddie hilles, that Timpe hight, through mid whereof doth glidePenaeus gushing full of froth from foote of Pindus hye,Which with his headlong falling downe doth cast up violentlyA mistie streame lyke flakes of smoke, besprinckling all about The toppes of trees on eyther side, and makes a roaring outThat may be heard a great way off. This is the fixed seate,This is the house and dwelling place and chamber of the greateAnd mightie Ryver: Here he sittes in Court of Peeble stone,And ministers justice to the waves and to the Nymphes eche one, That in the Brookes and waters dwell. Now hither did resorte(Not knowing if they might rejoyce and unto mirth exhortOr comfort him) his Countrie Brookes, Sperchius well beseeneWith sedgie heade and shadie bankes of Poplars fresh and greene,Enipeus restlesse, swift and quicke, olde father Apidane, Amphrisus with his gentle streame, and Aeas clad with cane:With dyvers other Ryvers moe, which having runne their race,Into the Sea their wearie waves doe lead with restlesse pace.From hence the carefull Inachus absentes him selfe alone,Who in a corner of his cave with doolefull teares and mone, Augments the waters of his streame, bewayling piteouslyHis daughter Io lately lost. He knewe not certainlyAnd if she were alive or deade. But for he had hir soughtAnd coulde not finde hir any where, assuredly he thoughtShe did not live above the molde, ne drewe the vitall breath:Misgiving worser in his minde, if ought be worse than death.It fortunde on a certaine day that Jove espide this MaydeCome running from hir fathers streame alone: to whome he sayde:O Damsell worthie Jove himselfe, like one day for to makeSome happie person whome thou list unto thy bed to take, I pray thee let us shroude our selves in shadowe here togither,Of this or that (he poynted both) it makes no matter whither,Untill the hotest of the day and Noone be overpast.And if for feare of savage beastes perchaunce thou be agastTo wander in the Woods alone, thou shalt not neede to feare, A God shall bee thy guide to save thee harmelesse every where.And not a God of meaner sort, but even the same that hathThe heavenly scepter in his hande, who in my dreadfull wrath,Do dart downe thunder wandringly: and therefore make no hastTo runne away. She ranne apace, and had alreadie past The Fen of Lerna and the field of Lincey set with trees:When Jove intending now in vaine no lenger tyme to leese,Upon the Countrie all about did bring a foggie mist,And caught the Mayden whome poore foole he used as he list.Queene Juno looking downe that while upon the open field, When in so fayre a day such mistes and darkenesse she behelde,Dyd marvell much, for well she knewe those mistes ascended notFrom any Ryver, moorishe ground, or other dankishe plot.She lookt about hir for hir Jove as one that was acquaintedWith such escapes and with the deede had often him attainted. Whome when she founde not in the heaven: Onlesse I gesse amisse,Some wrong agaynst me (quoth she) now my husbande working is.And with that worde she left the Heaven, and downe to earth shee came,Commaunding all the mistes away. But Jove foresees the same,And to a Cow as white as milke his Leman he convayes. She was a goodly Heifer sure: and Juno did hir prayse,Although (God wot) she thought it not, and curiously she sought,Where she was bred, whose Cow she was, who had hir thither broughteAs though she had not knowne the truth. Hir husband by and by(Bycause she should not search too neare) devisde a cleanly lie, And tolde hir that the Cow was bred even nowe out of the grounde.Then Juno who hir husbands shift at fingers endes had founde,Desirde to have the Cow of gift. What should he doe as tho?Great cruelnesse it were to yeelde his Lover to hir so.And not to give would breede mistrust. As fast as shame provoked, So fast agayne a tother side his Love his minde revoked.So much that Love was at the poynt to put all shame to flight.But that he feared if he should denie a gift so lightAs was a Cowe to hir that was his sister and his wyfe,Might make hir thinke it was no Cow, and breede perchaunce some strife. Now when that Juno had by gift hir husbands Leman got,Yet altogether out of feare and carelesse was she not.She had him in a jelousie and thoughtfull was she stillFor doubt he should invent some meanes to steale hir from hir: tillTo Argus, olde Aristors sonne, she put hir for to keepe. This Argus had an hundreth eyes: of which by turne did sleepeAlwayes a couple, and the rest did duely watch and warde,And of the charge they tooke in hande had ever good regarde,What way so ever Argus stood with face, with backe, or side,To Io warde, before his eyes did lo still abide. All day he let hir graze abroade, the Sunne once under groundHe shut hir up and by the necke with wrythen Withe hir bound.With croppes of trees and bitter weedes now was she dayly fed,And in the stead of costly couch and good soft featherbed,She sate a nightes upon the ground, and on such ground whereas Was not sometime so much as grasse: and oftentymes she wasCompeld to drinke of muddie pittes: and when she did deviseTo Argus for to lift hir handes in meeke and humble wise,She sawe she had no handes at all: and when she did assayTo make complaint, she lowed out, which did hir so affray, That oft she started at the noyse, and would have runne away.Unto hir father Inachs banckes she also did resorte,Where many a tyme and oft before she had beene wont to sporte.Now when she looked in the streame, and sawe hir horned hed,She was agast and from hir selfe would all in hast have fled. The Nymphes hir sisters knewe hir not nor yet hir owne deare father,Yet followed she both him and them, and suffred them the ratherTo touch and stroke hir where they list, as one that preaced stillTo set hir selfe to wonder at and gaze upon their fill.The good old Inach puls up grasse and to hir straight it beares.She as she kyst and lickt his handes did shed forth dreerie teares.And had she had hir speach at will to utter forth hir thought,She would have tolde hir name and chaunce and him of helpe besought.But for bicause she could not speake, she printed in the sande,Two letters with hir foote, whereby was given to understande The sorrowfull chaunging of hir shape.
Which seene straight cryed outHir father Inach, Wo is me, and clasping hir aboutHir white and seemely Heifers necke and christal hornes both twaine,He shrieked out full piteously: Now wo is me, again.Alas art thou my daughter deare, whome through the worlde I sought And could not finde, and now by chaunce art to my presence brought?My sorrow certesse lesser farre a thousande folde had beeneIf never had I seene thee more, than thus to have thee seene.Thou standst as dombe and to my wordes no answere can thou give,But from the bottom of thy heart full sorie sighes dost drive As tokens of thine inwarde griefe, and doolefully dost mooeUnto my talke, the onely thing leaft in thy powre to dooe.But I mistrusting nothing lesse than this so great mischaunce,By some great mariage earnestly did seeke thee to advaunce,In hope some yssue to have seene betweene my sonne and thee. But now thou must a husband have among the Heirds I see,And eke thine issue must be such as other cattels bee.Oh that I were a mortall wight as other creatures are,For then might death in length of time quite rid mee of this care,But now bycause I am a God, and fate doth death denie, There is no helpe but that my griefe must last eternallie.As Inach made this piteous mone quicke sighted Argus draveHis daughter into further fieldes to which he could not haveAccesse, and he himselfe aloof did get him to a hill,From whence he sitting at his ease viewd everie way at will. Now could no lenger Jove abide his Lover so forlorne,And thereupon he cald his sonne that Maia had him borne,Commaunding Argus should be kild. He made no long abod,But tyde his feathers to his feete, and tooke his charmed rod.(With which he bringeth things asleepe, and fetcheth soules from Hell) And put his Hat upon his head: and when that all was wellHe leaped from his fathers towres, and downe to earth he flueAnd there both Hat and winges also he lightly from him thrue,Retayning nothing but his staffe, the which he closely heldeBetweene his elbowe and his side, and through the common fielde Went plodding lyke some good plaine soule that had some flocke to feede.And as he went he pyped still upon an Oten Reede.Queene Junos Heirdman farre in love with this straunge melodieBespake him thus: Good fellow mine, I pray thee heartelyCome sitte downe by me on this hill, for better feede I knowe Thou shalt not finde in all these fieldes, and (as the thing doth showe)It is a coole and shadowie plot, for sheepeheirds verie fitte.Downe by his elbow by and by did Atlas nephew sit.And for to passe the tyme withall for seeming overlong,He helde him talke of this and that, and now and than among He playd upon his merrie Pipe to cause his watching eyesTo fall asleepe. Poore Argus did the best he could deviseTo overcome the pleasant nappes: and though that some did sleepe,Yet of his eyes the greater part he made their watch to keepe.And after other talke he askt (for lately was it founde) Who was the founder of that Pype that did so sweetely sounde.Then sayde the God: There dwelt sometime a Nymph of noble fameAmong the hilles of Arcadie, that Syrinx had to name.Of all the Nymphes of Nonacris and Fairie farre and neere,In beautie and in personage thys Ladie had no peere. Full often had she given the slippe both to the Satyrs quickeAnd other Gods that dwell in Woods, and in the Forrests thicke,Or in the fruitfull fieldes abrode: It was hir whole desireTo follow chaste Dianas guise in Maydenhead and attire,Whome she did counterfaite so nighe, that such as did hir see Might at a blush have taken hir Diana for to bee,But that the Nymph did in hir hande a bowe of Cornell holde,Whereas Diana evermore did beare a bowe of golde.And yet she did deceyve folke so. Upon a certaine dayGod Pan with garland on his heade of Pinetree, sawe hir stray From Mount Lyceus all alone, and thus to hir did say:Unto a Gods request, O Nymph, voucesafe thou to agreeThat doth desire thy wedded spouse and husband for to bee.There was yet more behinde to tell: as how that Syrinx fled,Through waylesse woods and gave no eare to that that Pan had sed, Untill she to the gentle streame of sandie Ladon came,Where, for bicause it was so deepe, she could not passe the same,She piteously to chaunge hir shape the water Nymphes besought:And how when Pan betweene his armes, to catch the Nymph had thought,In steade of hir he caught the Reedes newe growne upon the brooke, And as he sighed, with his breath the Reedes he softly shookeWhich made a still and mourning noyse, with straungnesse of the whichAnd sweetenesse of the feeble sounde the God delighted mich,Saide: Certesse, Syrinx, for thy sake it is my full intent,To make my comfort of these Reedes wherein thou doest lament: And how that there of sundrie Reedes with wax together knit,He made the Pipe which of hir name the Greekes call Syrinx yet.
But as Cyllenius would have tolde this tale, he cast his sightOn Argus, and beholde his eyes had bid him all good night.There was not one that did not sleepe, and fast he gan to nodde, Immediately he ceast his talke, and with his charmed rodde,So stroked all his heavie eyes that earnestly they slept.Then with his Woodknife by and by he lightly to him stept,And lent him such a perlous blowe, where as the shoulders grueUnto the necke, that straight his heade quite from the bodie flue. Then tombling downe the headlong hill his bloudie coarse he sent,That all the way by which he rolde was stayned and besprent.There lyest thou Argus under foote, with all thy hundreth lights,And all the light is cleane extinct that was within those sights.One endelesse night thy hundred eyes hath nowe bereft for aye, Yet would not Juno suffer so hir Heirdmans eyes decay:But in hir painted Peacocks tayle and feathers did them set,Where they remayne lyke precious stones and glaring eyes as yet.She tooke his death in great dispight and as hir rage did move,Determinde for to wreeke hir wrath upon hir husbandes Love. Forthwith she cast before hir eyes right straunge and ugly sightes,Compelling hir to thinke she sawe some Fiendes or wicked sprightes.And in hir heart such secret prickes and piercing stings she gave hir,As through the worlde from place to place with restlesse sorrow drave hir.Thou Nylus wert assignd to stay hir paynes and travails past, To which as soone as Io came with much adoe at last,With wearie knockles on thy brim she kneeled sadly downe,And stretching foorth hir faire long necke and christall horned crowne,Such kinde of countnaunce as she had she lifted to the skie,And there with sighing sobbes and teares and lowing doolefully Did seeme to make hir mone to Jove, desiring him to makeSome ende of those hir troublous stormes endured for his sake.He tooke his wife about the necke, and sweetely kissing prayde,That Ios penance yet at length might by hir graunt be stayde.Thou shalt not neede to feare (quoth he) that ever she shall grieve thee From this day forth. And in this case the better to beleve mee,The Stygian waters of my wordes unparciall witnesse beene.As soone as Juno was appeasde, immediately was seeneThat Io tooke hir native shape in which she first was borne,And eke became the selfesame thing the which she was beforne. For by and by she cast away hir rough and hairie hyde,Insteede whereof a soft smouth skinne with tender fleshe did byde.Hir hornes sank down, hir eies and mouth were brought in lesser roome,Hir handes, hir shoulders, and hir armes in place againe did come.Hir cloven Clees to fingers five againe reduced were, On which the nayles lyke pollisht Gemmes did shine full bright and clere.In fine, no likenesse of a Cow save whitenesse did remaineSo pure and perfect as no snow was able it to staine.She vaunst hir selfe upon hir feete which then was brought to two.And though she gladly would have spoke: yet durst she not so do, Without good heede, for feare she should have lowed like a Cow.And therefore softly with hir selfe she gan to practise howDistinctly to pronounce hir wordes that intermitted were.
Now, as a Goddesse, is she had in honour everie whereAmong the folke that dwell by Nyle yclad in linnen weede. Of her in tyme came Epaphus begotten of the seedeOf myghtie Jove. This noble ympe nowe joyntly with his mother,Through all the Cities of that lande have temples t'one with toother.There was his match in heart and yeares, the lustie Phaeton,A stalworth stripling strong and stout, the golden Phoebus sonne.Whome making proude and stately vauntes of his so noble race,And unto him in that respect in nothing giving place,The sonne of Io coulde not beare: but sayde unto him thus:No marvell though thou be so proude and full of wordes ywus.For everie fonde and trifling tale the which thy mother makes, Thy gyddie wit and hairebrainde heade forthwith for gospell takes.Well, vaunt thy selfe of Phoebus still, for when the truth is seene,Thou shalt perceyve that fathers name a forged thing to beene.At this reproch did Phaeton wax as red as any fire:Howbeit for the present tyme did shame represse his ire. Unto his mother Clymen straight he goeth to detectThe spitefull wordes that Epaphus against him did object.Yes mother (quoth he) and which ought your greater griefe to bee,I who at other tymes of talke was wont to be so freeAnd stoute, had neere a worde to say, I was ashamde to take So fowle a foyle: the more because I could none answere make.But if I be of heavenly race exacted as ye say,Then shewe some token of that highe and noble byrth I pray.And vouche me for to be of heaven. With that he gently castHis armes about his mothers necke, and clasping hir full fast, Besought hir as she lovde his life, and as she lovde the lyfeOf Merops, and had kept hir selfe as undefiled wyfe,And as she wished welthily his sisters to bestowe,She would some token give whereby his rightfull Sire to knowe.It is a doubtful matter whither Clymen moved more With this hir Phaetons earnest sute, exacting it so sore,Or with the slaunder of the bruit layde to hir charge before,Did holde up both hir handes to heaven, and looking on the Sunne,My right deare childe I safely sweare (quoth she to Phaeton)That of this starre the which so bright doth glister in thine eye:Of this same Sunne that cheares the world with light indifferentlyWert thou begot: and if I fayne, then with my heart I pray,That never may I see him more unto my dying day.But if thou have so great desire thy father for to knowe,Thou shalt not neede in that behalfe much labour to bestowe. The place from whence he doth arise adjoyneth to our lande.And if thou thinke thy heart will serve, then go and understandeThe truth of him. When Phaeton heard his mother saying so,He gan to leape and skip for joye. He fed his fansie tho,Upon the Heaven and heavenly things: and so with willing minde, From Aethiop first his native home, and afterwarde through IndeSet underneath the morning starre he went so long, till asHe founde me where his fathers house and dayly rising was.