Yit suffred not the destinyes all hope to perrish quyght Togither with the towne of Troy. That good and godly knyghtThe sonne of Venus bare away by nyght uppon his backeHis aged father and his Goddes, an honorable packe.Of all the riches of the towne that only pray he chose,So godly was his mynd: and like a bannisht man he goes By water with his owne yoong sonne Ascanius from the IleAntandros, and he shonnes the shore of Thracia which ere whyleThe wicked Tyrants treason did with Polydores blood defyle.And having wynd and tyde at will, he saufly wyth his trayneArryved at Apollos towne where Anius then did reigne.Whoo being both Apollos preest and of that place the king,Did enterteyne him in his house and unto church him bring,And shewd him bothe the Citie and the temples knowen of old,And eeke the sacred trees by which Latona once tooke holdWhen shee of chyldbirth travailed. As soone as sacrifyse Was doone with Oxens inwards burnt according to the guyse,And casting incence in the fyre, and sheading wyne thereon,They joyfull to the court returnd, and there they took anonRepaste of meate and drink. Then sayd the good Anchyses this:O Phebus, sovereine preest, onlesse I take my markes amisse, (As I remember) when I first of all this towne did see,Fowre daughters and a sonne of thyne thou haddest heere with thee.King Anius shooke his head wheron he ware a myter whyght,And answerd thus: O noble prince, in fayth thou gessest ryght.Of children fyve a father then, thou diddest mee behold, Whoo now (with such unconstancie are mortall matters rolld)Am in a manner chyldlesse quyght. For what avayles my sonneWho in the Ile of Anderland a great way hence dooth wonne?Which country takes his name of him, and in the selfsayd place,In stead of father, like a king he holdes the royall mace.Apollo gave his lot to him: and Bacchus for to showeHis love, a greater gift uppon his susters did bestoweThen could bee wisht or credited. For whatsoever theyDid towche, was turned into come, and wyne, and oyle streyghtway.And so theyr was riche use in them. As soone as that the fame Hereof to Agamemnons eares, the scourge of Trojans, came,Lest you myght tast your stormes alone and wee not feele the sameIn part, an hoste he hither sent, and whither I would or noDid take them from mee, forcing them among the Greekes to goTo feede the Greekish army with theyr heavenly gift. But they Escapde whither they could by flyght. A couple tooke theyr wayTo Ile Ewboya: tother two to Anderland did fly,Theyr brothers Realme. An host of men pursewd them by and by,And threatened warre onlesse they were deliverde. Force of feareSubdewing nature, did constreyne the brother (men must beare With fearfulnesse) to render up his susters to theyr fo.For neyther was Aenaeas there, nor valeant Hector (whoDid make your warre last ten yeeres long) the countrye to defend.Now when they should like prisoners have beene fettred, in the endThey casting up theyr handes (which yit were free) to heaven, did cry To Bacchus for to succour them, who helpt them by and by,At leastwyse if it may bee termd a help, in woondrous wyseTo alter folke. For never could I lerne ne can surmyseThe manner how they lost theyr shape. The thing it selfe is knowen.With fethered wings as whyght as snow they quyght away are flowen Transformed into doovehouse dooves, thy wyfe dame Venus burdes.When that the time of meate was spent with theis and such like woordes,The table was removed streyght, and then they went to sleepe.Next morrow rysing up as soone as day began to peepe,They went to Phebus Oracle, which willed them to go Unto theyr moother countrey and the coastes theyr stocke came fro.King Anius bare them companie. And when away they shoold,He gave them gifts. Anchises had a scepter all of goold.Ascanius had a quiver and a Cloke right brave and trim.Aenaeas had a standing Cup presented unto him. The Thebane Therses whoo had been king Anius guest erewhyleDid send it out of Thessaly: but Alcon one of MyleDid make the cuppe. And hee theron a story portrayd out.It was a Citie with seven gates in circuit round about,Which men myght easly all discerne. The gates did represent The Cities name, and showed playne what towne thereby was ment.Without the towne were funeralls a dooing for the dead,With herces, tapers, fyres, and tumbes. The wyves with ruffled headAnd stomacks bare pretended greef. The nymphes seemd teares to shead,And wayle the drying of theyr welles. The leavelesse trees did seare. And licking on the parched stones Goats romed heere and there.Behold amid this Thebane towne was lyvely portrayd outEchions daughters twayne, of which the one with courage stoutDid prefer bothe her naked throte and stomacke to the knyfe:And tother with a manly hart did also spend her lyfe, For saufgard of her countryfolk: and how that therupponThey both were caryed solemly on herces, and anonWere burned in the cheefest place of all the Thebane towne.Then (least theyr linage should decay whoo dyde with such renowne,)Out of the Asshes of the maydes there issued twoo yong men, And they unto theyr moothers dust did obsequies agen.Thus much was graved curiously in auncient precious brasse,And on the brim a trayle of flowres of bearbrich gilded was.The Trojans also gave to him as costly giftes agen.Bycause he was Apollos preest they gave to him as then A Chist to keepe in frankincence. They gave him furthermoreA Crowne of gold wherin were set of precious stones great store.

Then calling to remembrance that the Trojans issued wereOf Tewcers blood, they sayld to Crete. But long they could not thereAbyde th'infection of the aire: and so they did forsake The hundred Cities, and with speede to Itayleward did make.The winter wexed hard and rough, and tost them verry sore.And when theyr shippes arrived were uppon the perlous shoreAmong the Strophad Iles, the bird Aello did them feare.The costes of Dulich, Ithaca, and Same they passed were, And eeke the Court of Neritus where wyse Ulysses reignd,And came to Ambrace for the which the Gods strong stryfe maynteind.There sawe they turned into stone the judge whoose image yitAt Actium in Appollos Church in signe therof dooth sit.They vewed also Dodon grove where Okes spake: and the coast Of Chaon where the sonnes of king Molossus scapt a mostUngracious fyre by taking wings. From thence they coasted byThe countrye of the Pheaks fraught with frute abundantly.Then tooke they land in Epyre, and to Buthrotos they wentWheras the Trojane prophet dwelt, whoose reigne did represent An image of theyr auncient Troy. There being certifydeOf things to come by Helen (whoo whyle there they did abydeInformed them ryght faythfully of all that should betyde)They passed into Sicilie. With corners three this landShootes out into the Sea: of which Pachinnus front dooth stand Ageinst the southcoast: Lilibye dooth face the gentle west,And Pelore unto Charlsis wayne dooth northward beare his brest.The Trojanes under Pelore gat with ores and prosprous tydesAnd in the even by Zanclye shore theyr fleete at anchor rydes.Uppon the left syde restlessely Charybdis ay dooth beate them, And swalloweth shippes and spewes them up as fast as it dooth eate them.And Scylla beateth on theyr ryght: which from the navell downeIs patched up with cruell curres: and upward to the crowneDooth keepe the countnance of a mayd, and (if that all bee trewThat Poets fayne) shee was sumtyme a mayd ryght fayre of hew. To her made many wooers sute: all which shee did eschew.And going to the salt Sea nymphes (to whom shee was ryght deere)She vaunted, to how many men shee gave the slippe that yeere.To whom the Lady Galate in kembing of her heareSayd thus with syghes: But they that sought to thee (O Lady) were None other than of humane kynd, to whom without all feareOf harme, thou myghtest (as thou doost) give nay. But as for meeAlthough that I of Nereus and gray Doris daughter bee,And of my susters have with mee continually a gard,I could not scape the Cyclops love, but to my greef full hard. (With that her teares did stoppe her speeche.) As soone as that the maydHad dryde them with her marble thomb, and moande the nymph, she sayd:Deere Goddesse, tell mee all your greef, and hyde it not from mee:For trust mee, I will unto you bothe true and secret bee.Then unto Cratyes daughter thus the nymph her playnt did frame:

Of Fawne and nymph Simethis borne was Acis, whoo becameA joy to bothe his parents, but to mee the greater joy.For being but a sixteene yeeres of age, this fayre sweete boyDid take mee to his love, what tyme about his chyldish chinThe tender heare like mossy downe to sprowt did first begin.I loved him beyond all Goddes forbod, and likewyse meeThe Giant Cyclops. Neyther (if demaunded it should bee)I well were able for to tell you whither that the loveOf Acis, or the Cyclops hate did more my stomacke move.There was no oddes betweene them. Oh deere Goddesse Venus, whatA powre haste thou? Behold how even this owgly Giant thatNo sparke of meekenesse in him hath, whoo is a terrour toThe verrye woodes, whom never guest nor straunger came untoWithout displeasure, whoo the heavens and all the Goddes despyseth,Dooth feele what thing is love. The love of mee him so surpryseth, That Polypheme regarding not his sheepe and hollowe Cave,And having care to please dooth go about to make him brave.His sturre stiffe heare he kembeth nowe with strong and sturdy rakes,And with a sythe dooth marcussotte his bristled berd: and takesDelyght to looke uppon himself in waters, and to frame His countnance. Of his murtherous hart the wyldnesse wexeth tame.His unastaunched thyrst of blood is quenched: shippes may passeAnd repasse saufly. In the whyle that he in love thus was,One Telemus, Ewrymeds sonne, a man of passing skillIn birdflyght, taking land that tyme in Sicill, went untill The orped Gyant Polypheme, and sayd: This one round eyeThat now amid thy forehead stands shall one day ere thou dyeBy sly Ulysses blinded bee. The Gyant laught therat,And sayd: O foolish soothsayre, thou deceyved art in that.For why another (even a wench) already hathe it blynded. Thus skorning him that told him truthe bycause he was hygh mynded,He eyther made the ground to shake in walking on the shore,Or rowzd him in his shadye Cave. With wedged poynt beforeThere shoots a hill into the Sea: whereof the sea dooth beateOn eyther syde. The one eyd feend came up and made his seate Theron, and after came his sheepe undriven. As soone as heeHad at his foote layd downe his staffe which was a whole Pyne treeWell able for to bee a maast to any shippe, he takesHis pype compact of fyvescore reedes, and therwithall he makesSo loud a noyse that all the hilles and waters therabout Myght easly heere the shirlnesse of the shepeherds whistling out.I lying underneathe the rocke, and leaning in the lappeOf Acis markt theis woordes of his which farre I heard by happe:More whyght thou art then Primrose leaf, my Lady Galatee.More fresh than meade, more tall and streyght than lofty Aldertree. More bright than glasse, more wanton than the tender kid forsooth.Than Cockleshelles continually with water worne, more smoothe.More cheerefull than the winters Sun, or Sommers shadowe cold,More seemely and more comly than the Planetree to behold,Of valew more than Apples bee although they were of gold. More cleere than frozen yce, more sweete than Grape through rype ywis,More soft than butter newly made, or downe of Cygnet is.And much more fayre and beawtyfull than gardein to myne eye,But that thou from my companye continually doost flye.And thou the selfsame Galate art more tettish for to frame Than Oxen of the wildernesse whom never wyght did tame.More fleeting than the waves, more hard than warryed Oke to twyne,More tough than willow twiggs, more lyth than is the wyld whyght vyne.More than this rocke unmovable, more violent than a streame.More prowd than Peacocke praysd, more feerce than fyre and more extreeme. More rough than Breers, more cruell than the new delivered Beare,More mercilesse than troden snake, than sea more deafe of eare.And which (and if it lay in mee I cheefly would restrayne)Not only swifter paced than the stag in chace on playne,But also swifter than the wynd and flyghtfull ayre. But if Thou knew me well, it would thee irke to flye and bee a greefTo tarrye from mee. Yea thou wouldst endeavour all thy powreTo keepe mee wholly to thy self. The Quarry is my bowreHeawen out of whole mayne stone. No Sun in sommer there can swelt.No nipping cold in wintertyme within the same is felt. Gay Apples weying downe the boughes have I, and Grapes like gold,And purple Grapes on spreaded Vynes as many as can hold.Bothe which I doo reserve for thee. Thyself shalt with thy handThe soft sweete strawbryes gather, which in wooddy shadowe stand.The Cornell berryes also from the tree thy self shall pull: And pleasant plommes, sum yellow lyke new wax, sum blew, sum fullOf ruddy jewce. Of Chestnutts eeke (if my wyfe thou wilt bee)Thou shalt have store: and frutes all sortes: all trees shall serve for thee.This Cattell heere is all myne owne. And many mo besydeDoo eyther in the bottoms feede, or in the woodes them hyde, And many standing at theyr stalles doo in my Cave abyde.The number of them (if a man should ask) I cannot showe.Tush, beggars of theyr Cattell use the number for to knowe.And for the goodnesse of the same, no whit beleeve thou mee.But come thyself (and if thou wilt) the truth therof to see. See how theyr udders full doo make them straddle. Lesser wareShet up at home in cloce warme peends, are Lambes. There also areIn other pinfolds Kidds of selfsame yeaning tyme. Thus haveI alwayes mylke as whyte as snow. Wherof I sum doo saveTo drink, and of the rest is made good cheese. And furthermore Not only stale and common gifts and pleasures wherof storeIs to bee had at eche mannes hand, (as Leverets, Kidds, and Does,A payre of pigeons, or a nest of birds new found, or Roes,)Shall unto thee presented bee. I found this tother dayA payre of Bearewhelpes, eche so lyke the other as they lay Uppon a hill, that scarce yee eche discerne from other may.And when that I did fynd them I did take them up, and sayTheis will I for my Lady keepe for her therwith to play.Now put thou up thy fayre bryght head, good Galat, I thee pray,Above the greenish waves: now come my Galat, come away. And of my present take no scorne. I know my selfe to beeA jollye fellow. For even now I did behold and seeMyne image in the water sheere, and sure mee thought I tookeDelyght to see my goodly shape, and favor in the brooke.Behold how big I am: not Jove in heaven (for so you men Report one Jove to reigne, of whom I passe not for to ken)Is huger than this doughty corce of myne. A bush of heareDooth overdreepe my visage grim, and shadowes as it wereA grove uppon my shoulders twayne. And think it not to beeA shame for that with bristled heare my body rough yee see. A fowle ilfavored syght it is to see a leavelesse tree.A lothely thing it is, a horse without a mane to keepe.As fethers doo become the birdes, and wooll becommeth sheepe,Even so a beard and bristled skin becommeth also men.I have but one eye, which dooth stand amid my frunt. What then?This one round eye of myne is lyke a myghty target. Why?Vewes not the Sun all things from heaven? Yit but one only eyeHath hee. Moreover in your Seas my father beares the sway.Him will I make thy fathrinlaw. Have mercy I thee pray,And harken to myne humble sute. For only unto theeYeeld I. Even I of whom bothe heaven and Jove despysed beeAnd eeke the percing thunderbolt, doo stand in awe and feareOf thee, O Nerye. Thyne ill will is greevouser to beareThan is the deadly Thunderclappe. Yit could I better fyndIn hart to suffer this contempt of thyne with pacient myndIf thou didst shonne all other folk as well as mee. But whyRejecting Cyclops doost thou love dwarf Acis? Why say IPreferst thou Acis unto mee? Well, let him liked beeBoth of himself, and also (which I would be lothe) of thee.And if I catch him he shall feele that in my body is The force that should bee. I shall paunch him quicke. Those limbes of hisI will in peeces teare, and strew them in the feeldes, and inThy waters, if he doo thee haunt. For I doo swelt within.And being chaafte the flame dooth burne more feerce to my unrest.Mee thinks mount Aetna with his force is closed in my brest. And yit it nothing moveth thee. As soone as he had talktThus much in vayne, (I sawe well all) he rose: and fuming stalktAmong his woodes and woonted Lawndes, as dooth a Bulchin, whenThe Cow is from him tane. He could him no where rest as then.Anon the feend espyed mee and Acis where wee lay, Before wee wist or feared it: and crying out gan say:I see yee. And confounded myght I bee with endlesse shame,But if I make this day the last agreement of your game.Theis woordes were spoke with such a reere as verry well becameAn angry Giant. Aetna shooke with lowdnesse of the same.I scaard therwith dopt underneathe the water, and the knyghtSimethus turning streyght his backe, did give himself to flyght,And cryed: Help mee Galate, help parents I you pray,And in your kingdome mee receyve whoo perrish must streyghtway.The roundeyd devill made pursewt: and rending up a fleece Of Aetna Rocke, threw after him: of which a little peeceDid Acis overtake. And yit as little as it was,It overwhelmed Acis whole. I wretched wyght (alas)Did that which destnyes would permit. Foorthwith I brought to passeThat Acis should receyve the force his father had before. His scarlet blood did issue from the lump, and more and moreWithin a whyle the rednesse gan to vannish: and the hewResembled at the first a brooke with rayne distroubled new,Which wexeth cleere by length of tyme. Anon the lump did clyve,And from the hollow cliffe therof hygh reedes sprang up alyve. And at the hollow issue of the stone the bubling waterCame trickling out. And by and by (which is a woondrous matter)The stripling with a wreath of reede about his horned headAvaunst his body to the waste. Whoo (save he was that steadMuch biggar than he erst had beene, and altogither gray) Was Acis still. And being turnd to water, at this dayIn shape of river still he beares his former name away.

The Lady Galat ceast her talk and streyght the companye brake.And Neryes daughters parting thence, swam in the gentle lake.Dame Scylla home ageine returnd. (Shee durst not her betake To open sea) and eyther roamd uppon the sandy shoreStark naakt, or when for weerinesse shee could not walk no more,Shee then withdrew her out of syght and gate her to a poole,And in the water of the same, her heated limbes did coole.Behold the fortune. Glaucus (whoo then being late before Transformed in Ewboya Ile uppon Anthedon shore,Was new becomme a dweller in the sea) as he did swimAlong the coast was tane in love at syght of Scylla trim,And spake such woordes as he did think myght make her tarry still.Yit fled shee still, and swift for feare shee gate her to a hill That butted on the Sea. Ryght steepe and upward sharp did shooteA loftye toppe with trees, beneathe was hollowe at the foote.Heere Scylla stayd and being sauf by strongnesse of the place,(Not knowing if he monster were, or God, that did her chace,)Shee looked backe. And woondring at his colour and his heare With which his shoulders and his backe all wholly covered were,Shee saw his neather parts were like a fish with tayle wrythde roundWho leaning to the neerest Rocke, sayd thus with lowd cleere sound:Fayre mayd, I neyther monster am nor cruell savage beast:But of the sea a God, whoose powre and favour is not least. For neyther Protew in the sea nor Triton have more myghtNor yit the sonne of Athamas that now Palaemon hyght.Yit once I was a mortall man. But you must know that IWas given to seawoorkes, and in them mee only did apply.For sumtyme I did draw the drag in which the fishes were, And sumtyme sitting on the cliffes I angled heere and there.There butteth on a fayre greene mede a bank wherof t'one halfIs cloasd with sea, the rest is clad with herbes which never calf,Nor horned Ox, nor seely sheepe, nor shakheard Goate did feede.The busye Bee did never there of flowres sweet smelling speede. No gladsum garlonds ever there were gathered for the head.No hand those flowers ever yit with hooked sythe did shred.I was the first that ever set my foote uppon that plot.Now as I dryde my dropping netts, and layd abrode my lotte,To tell how many fishes had bychaunce to net beene sent, Or through theyr owne too lyght beeleefe on bayted hooke beene hent:(The matter seemeth like a lye, but what avayles to lye?)As soone as that my pray had towcht the grasse, it by and byBegan to move, and flask theyr finnes, and swim uppon the drye,As in the Sea. And as I pawsd and woondred at the syght, My draught of fishes everychone to seaward tooke theyr flyght,And leaping from the shore, forsooke theyr newfound mayster quyght.I was amazed at the thing: and standing long in dowt,I sought the cause if any God had brought this same abowt,Or else sum jewce of herb. And as I so did musing stand, What herb (quoth I) hath such a powre? And gathering with my handThe grasse, I bote it with my toothe. My throte had scarcely yitWell swallowed downe the uncouth jewce, when like an agew fitI felt myne inwards soodeinly to shake, and with the same,A love of other nature in my brest with violence came. And long I could it not resist, but sayd: Deere land, adeew,For never shall I haunt thee more. And with that woord I threwMy bodye in the sea. The Goddes thereof receyving mee,Vouchsaved in theyr order mee installed for to bee,Desyring old Oceanus and Thetis for theyr sake, The rest of my mortalitie away from mee to take.They hallowed mee, and having sayd nyne tymes the holy rymeThat purgeth all prophanednesse, they charged mee that tymeTo put my brestbulk underneathe a hundred streames. AnonThe brookes from sundry coastes and all the Seas did ryde uppon My head. From whence as soone as I returned, by and byI felt my self farre otherwyse through all my limbes, than IHad beene before. And in my mynd I was another man.Thus farre of all that mee befell make just report I can.Thus farre I beare in mynd. The rest my mynd perceyved not. Then first of all this hory greene gray grisild beard I got,And this same bush of heare which all along the seas I sweepe,And theis same myghty shoulders, and theis grayish armes, and feeteConfounded into finned fish. But what avayleth meeThis goodly shape, and of the Goddes of sea to loved bee? Or for to be a God my self, if they delyght not thee?As he was speaking this, and still about to utter more,Dame Scylla him forsooke: wherat he wexing angry sore,And beeing quickened with repulse, in rage he tooke his wayTo Circes, Titans daughters, Court which full of monsters lay.

Now had th'Ewboyan fisherman (whoo lately was becommeA God of sea to dwell in sea for ay,) alreadye swommePast Aetna which uppon the face of Giant Typho lyes,Toogither with the pasture of the Cyclops which defyesBoth Plough and harrowe, and by teemes of Oxen sets no store: And Zancle, and crackt Rhegion which stands a tother shore:And eeke the rough and shipwrecke sea which being hemmed inWith two mayne landes on eyther syde, is as a bound betwinThe frutefull Realmes of Italy and Sicill. From that placeHe cutting through the Tyrrhene sea with both his armes apace, Arryved at the grassye hilles and at the Palace hyeOf Circe, Phoebus imp, which full of sundry beastes did lye.When Glaucus in her presence came, and had her greeted, andReceyved freendly welcomming and greeting at her hand,He sayd: O Goddesse, pitie mee a God, I thee desyre. Thou only (if at least thou think mee woorthy so great hyre)Canst ease this love of myne. No wyght dooth better know than IThe powre of herbes, whoo late ago transformed was therby.And now to open unto thee of this my greef the ground,Uppon th'Italyan shore ageinst Messene walls I found Fayre Scylla. Shame it is to tell how scornfull shee did takeThe gentle woordes and promises and sute that I did make.But if that any powre at all consist in charmes, then letThat sacret mouth of thyne cast charmes: or if more force bee setIn herbes to compasse things withall, then use the herbes that have Most strength in woorking. Neyther think, I hither come to craveA medcine for to heale myself and cure my wounded hart:I force no end. I would have her bee partener of my smart.But Circe (for no natures are more lyghtly set on fyreThan such as shee is) (whither that the cause of this desyre Were only in herself, or that Dame Venus bearing ayIn mynd her fathers deede in once disclosing of her play,Did stirre her heereunto) sayd thus: It were a better wayFor thee to fancye such a one whoose will and whole desyreIs bent to thine, and whoo is sindgd with selfsame kynd of fyre. Thou woorthye art of sute to thee. And (credit mee) thou shouldstBee woode in deede, if any hope of speeding give thou wouldst.And therefore dowt not. Only of thy beawtye lyking have.Lo, I whoo am a Goddesse and the imp of Phoebus brave,Whoo can so much by charmes, whoo can so much by herbes, doo vow My self to thee. If I disdeine, disdeine mee also thow.And if I yeeld, yeeld thou likewyse: and in one only deedeAvenge thy self of twayne. To her intreating thus to speede,First trees shall grow (quoth Glaucus) in the sea, and reeke shall thryveIn toppes of hilles, ere I (as long as Scylla is alyve) Doo chaunge my love. The Goddesse wext ryght wroth: and sith she couldNot hurt his persone beeing falne in love with him, ne would:Shee spyghted her that was preferd before her. And upponDispleasure tane of this repulse, shee went her way anon.And wicked weedes of grisly jewce toogither shee did bray, And in the braying, witching charmes shee over them did say.And putting on a russet cloke, shee passed through the rowtOf savage beastes that in her court came fawning round abowt,And going unto Rhegion cliffe which standes ageinst the shoreOf Zancle, entred by and by the waters that doo rore With violent tydes, uppon the which shee stood as on firme land,And ran and never wet her feete a whit. There was at handA little plash that bowwed like a bowe that standeth bent,Where Scylla woonted was to rest herself, and thither wentFrom rage of sea and ayre, what tyme the sonne amid the skye Is hotest making shadowes short by mounting up on hye.This plash did Circe then infect ageinst that Scylla came,And with her poysons which had powre most monstrous shapes to frameDefyled it. Shee sprincled there the jewce of venymd weedes,And thryce nyne tymes with witching mouth shee softly mumbling, reedes A charme ryght darke of uncouth woordes. No sooner Scylla cameWithin this plash, and to the waast had waded in the same,But that shee sawe her hinderloynes with barking buggs atteint.And at the first, not thinking with her body they were meyntAs parts therof, shee started back, and rated them. And sore Shee was afrayd the eager curres should byght her. But the moreShee shonned them, the surer still shee was to have them there.In seeking where her loynes, and thyghes, and feet and ancles were,Chappes like the chappes of Cerberus in stead of them shee found.Nought else was there than cruell curres from belly downe to ground. So underneathe misshaped loynes and womb remayning sound,Her mannish mastyes backes were ay within the water drownd.Her lover Glaucus wept therat, and Circes bed refusdeThat had so passing cruelly her herbes on Scylla usde.But Scylla in that place abode. And for the hate shee bore To Circeward, (assoone as meete occasion servde therfore)Shee spoyld Ulysses of his mates. And shortly after, sheeHad also drownd the Trojane fleete, but that (as yit wee see)Shee was transformd to rock of stone, which shipmen warely shonne.

When from this Rocke the Trojane fleete by force of Ores had wonne, And from Charybdis greedye gulf, and were in manner readyeTo have arryvde in Italy, the wynd did ryse so heady,And that it drave them backe uppon the coast of Affricke. ThereThe Tyrian Queene (whoo afterward unpaciently should beareThe going of this Trojane prince away) did enterteine Aenaeas in her house, and was ryght glad of him and fayne.Uppon a Pyle made underneathe pretence of sacrifyseShee goard herself upon a swoord, and in most wofull wyseAs shee herself had beene beguyld: so shee beguyled all.Eftsoone Aenaeas flying from the newly reered wall Of Carthage in that sandy land, retyred backe agenTo Sicill, where his faythfull freend Acestes reignd. And whenHe there had doone his sacrifyse, and kept an Obit atHis fathers tumb, he out of hand did mend his Gallyes thatDame Iris, Junos messenger, had burned up almost. And sayling thence he kept his course aloof along the coastOf Aeolye and of Vulcanes lies the which of brimston smol And passing by the Meremayds rocks, (His Pilot by a strokeOf tempest being drownd in sea) he sayld by Prochite, andInarime, and (which uppon a barreine hill dooth stand) The land of Ape Ile, which dooth take that name of people s'ieThere dwelling. For the Syre of Goddes abhorring utterlyThe leawdnesse of the Cercops, and theyr wilfull perjurye,And eeke theyr guylefull dealing did transforme them everycloneInto an evillfavored kynd of beast: that beeing none They myght yit still resemble men. He knit in lesser spaceTheyr members, and he beate mee flat theyr noses to theyr face,The which he filled furrowlike with wrinckles every where.He clad theyr bodyes over all with fallow coulourd heare,And put them into this same Ile to dwell forever there. But first he did bereeve them of the use of speeche and toong,Which they to cursed perjurye did use bothe old and yoong.To chatter hoarcely, and to shreeke, to jabber, and to squeake,

He hath them left, and for to moppe and mowe, but not to speake.Aenaeas having past this Ile, and on his ryght hand left The towne of Naples, and the tumb of Mysen on his left,Toogither with the fenny grounds: at Cumye landed, andWent unto longlyvde Sybills house, with whom he went in handThat he to see his fathers ghoste myght go by Averne deepe.Shee long uppon the earth in stownd her eyes did fixed keepe, And at the length as soone as that the spryght of prophesyeWas entred her, shee raysing them did thus ageine reply:O most renowmed wyght, of whom the godlynesse by fyreAnd valeantnesse is tryde by swoord, great things thou doost requyre.But feare not, Trojane: for thou shalt bee lord of thy desyre. To see the reverend image of thy deerebeeloved syre,Among the fayre Elysian feeldes where godly folke abyde,And all the lowest kingdoomes of the world I will thee guyde.No way to vertue is restreynd. This spoken, shee did showeA golden bowgh that in the wood of Proserpine did growe, And willed him to pull it from the tree. He did obey:And sawe the powre of dreadfull hell, and where his graundsyres layAnd eeke the aged Ghost of stowt Anchises. FurthermoreHe lernd the customes of the land arryvd at late before,And what adventures should by warre betyde him in that place. From thence retyring up ageine a slow and weery pace,He did asswage the tediousnesse by talking with his guyde.For as he in the twylyght dim this dreadfui way did ryde,He sayed: Whither present thou thyself a Goddesse bee,Or such a one as God dooth love most dearly, I will thee For ever as a Goddesse take, and will acknowledge meeThy servant, for saufguyding mee the place of death to see,And for thou from the place of death hast brought me sauf and free.For which desert, what tyme I shall atteyne to open ayre,I will a temple to thee buyld ryght sumptuous, large, and fayre, And honour thee with frankincence. The prophetisse did castHer eye uppon Aenaeas backe, and syghing sayd at last:I am no Goddesse. Neyther think thou canst with conscience ryght,With holy incence honour give to any mortall wyght.But to th'entent through ignorance thou erre not, I had beene Eternall and of worldly lyfe I should none end have seene,If that I would my maydenhod on Phebus have bestowde.Howbeeit whyle he stood in hope to have the same, and trowdeTo overcome mee with his gifts: Thou mayd of Cumes (quoth he)Choose what thou wilt, and of thy wish the owner thou shalt bee.I taking full my hand of dust, and shewing it him there,Desyred like a foole to live as many yeeres as wereSmall graynes of cinder in that heape. I quight forgot to craveImmediately, the race of all those yeeres in youth to have.Yit did he graunt mee also that, uppon condicion I Would let him have my maydenhod, which thing I did denye.And so rejecting Phebus gift a single lyfe I led.But now the blessefull tyme of youth is altogither fled,And irksome age with trembling pace is stolne uppon my head,Which long I must endure. For now already as you see Seven hundred yeares are come and gone and that the number beeFull matched of the granes of dust, three hundred harvestes mo,I must three hundred vintages see more before I go.The day will come that length of tyme shall make my body small,And little of my withered limbes shall leave or naught at all.And none shall think that ever God was tane in love with mee.Even out of Phebus knowledge then perchaunce I growen shall bee,Or at the least that ever he mee lovde he shall denye,So sore I shall be altered. And then shall no mannes eyeDiscerne mee. Only by my voyce I shall bee knowen. For why The fates shall leave mee still my voyce for folke to know mee by.

As Sybill in the vaulted way such talk as this did frame,The Trojane knyght Aenaeas up at Cumes fro Limbo came.And having doone the sacrifyse accustomd for the same,He tooke his journey to the coast which had not yit the nameReceyved of his nurce. In this same place he found a mateOf wyse Ulysses, Macare of Neritus, whoo lateBefore, had after all his long and tediouse toyles, there stayd.He spying Achemenides (whom late ago afraydThey had among mount Aetnas Cliffs abandond when they fled From Polypheme): and woondring for to see he was not dead,Sayd thus: O Achemenides, what chaunce, or rather whatGood God hathe savde the lyfe of thee? What is the reason thatA barbrous shippe beares thee a Greeke? Or whither saylest thou?To him thus, Achemenides, his owne man freely now And not forgrowen as one forlorne, nor clad in bristled hyde,Made answer: Yit ageine I would I should in perrill bydeOf Polypheme, and that I myght those chappes of his beholdBeesmeared with the blood of men, but if that I doo holdThis shippe more deere than all the Realme of wyse Ulysses, orIf lesser of Aenaeas I doo make account than forMy father, neyther (though I did as much as doone myght bee,)I could ynough bee thankfull for his goodnesse towards mee.That I still speake and breathe, that I the Sun and heaven doo see,Is his gift. Can I thanklesse then or myndlesse of him bee, That downe the round eyed gyants throte this soule of myne went not?And that from hencefoorth when to dye it ever be my lotI may be layd in grave, or sure not in the Gyants mawe?What hart had I that tyme (at least if feare did not withdraweBoth hart and sence) when left behynd, you taking shippe I sawe? I would have called after you but that I was afraydBy making outcrye to my fo myself to have beewrayd.For even the noyse that you did make did put Ulysses shippeIn daunger. I did see him from a cragged mountaine strippeA myghty rocke, and into sea it throwe midway and more. Ageine I sawe his giants pawe throwe huge big stones great storeAs if it were a sling. And sore I feared lest your shippeShould drowned by the water bee that from the stones did skippe,Or by the stones themselves, as if my self had beene therin.But when that flyght had saved you from death, he did begin On Aetna syghing up and downe to walke: and with his pawesWent groping of the trees among the woodes. And forbycauseHe could not see, he knockt his shinnes ageinst the rocks eche where.And stretching out his grisly armes (which all beegrymed wereWith baken blood) to seaward, he the Greekish nation band, And sayd: O if that sum good chaunce myght bring unto my handUlysses or sum mate of his, on whom to wreake myne ire,Uppon whose bowells with my teeth I like a Hawke myght tyre:Whose living members myght with theis my talants teared beene:Whoose blood myght bubble down my throte: whose flesh myght pant between My jawes: how lyght or none at all this losing of myne eyeWould seeme. Theis woordes and many mo the cruell feend did cry.A shuddring horror perced mee to see his smudged face,And cruell handes, and in his frunt the fowle round eyelesse place,And monstrous members, and his beard beslowbered with the blood Of man. Before myne eyes then death the smallest sorrow stood.I loked every minute to bee seased in his pawe.I looked ever when he should have cramd mee in his mawe.And in my mynd I of that tyme mee thought the image saweWhen having dingd a doozen of our fellowes to the ground And lying lyke a Lyon feerce or hunger sterved howndUppon them, very eagerly he downe his greedy gutTheyr bowwels and theyr limbes yit more than half alive did put,And with theyr flesh toogither crasht the bones and maree whyght.I trembling like an aspen leaf stood sad and bloodlesse quyght. And in beholding how he fed and belked up againeHis bloody vittells at his mouth, and uttred out amayneThe clottred gobbets mixt with wyne, I thus surmysde: Like lotHangs over my head now, and I must also go to pot.And hyding mee for many dayes, and quaking horribly At every noyse, and dreading death, and wisshing for to dye,Appeasing hunger with the leaves of trees, and herbes and mast,Alone, and poore, and footelesse, and to death and pennance cast,A long tyme after I espyde this shippe afarre at last,And ronning downeward to the sea by signes did succour seeke. Where fynding grace, this Trojane shippe receyved mee, a Greeke.But now I prey thee, gentle freend, declare thou unto meeThy Capteines and thy fellowes lucke that tooke the sea with thee.

He told him how that Aeolus, the sonne of Hippot, heThat keepes the wyndes in pryson cloce did reigne in Tuskane sea. And how Ulysses having at his hand a noble gift,The wynd enclosde in leather bagges, did sayle with prosperous driftNyne dayes toogither: insomuch they came within the syghtOf home: but on the tenth day when the morning gan give lyght,His fellowes being somewhat toucht with covetousenesse and spyght, Supposing that it had beene gold, did let the wyndes out quyght.The which returning whence they came, did drive them backe amayneThat in the Realme of Aeolus they went aland agayne.From thence (quoth he) we came unto the auncient Lamyes towneOf which the feerce Antiphates that season ware the crowne. A cowple of my mates and I were sent unto him: andA mate of myne and I could scarce by flyght escape his hand.The third of us did with his blood embrew the wicked faceOf leawd Antiphate, whoo with swoord us flying thence did chace,And following after with a rowt threw stones and loggs which drownd Both men and shippes. Howbeeit one by chaunce escaped sound,Which bare Ulysses and my self. So having lost most partOf all our deare companions, we with sad and sory hartAnd much complayning, did arryve at yoonder coast which yowMay ken farre hence. A great way hence (I say) wee see it now But trust mee truly over neere I saw it once. And thowAenaeas, Goddesse Venus sonne, the justest knight of allThe Trojane race (for sith the warre is doone, I can not callThee fo) I warne thee get thee farre from Circes dwelling place.For when our shippes arryved there, remembring eft the cace Of cruell king Antiphates, and of that hellish wyghtThe round eyed gyant Polypheme, wee had so small delyghtTo visit uncowth places, that wee sayd wee would not go.Then cast we lotts. The lot fell out uppon myself as tho,And Polyte, and Eurylocus, and on Elpenor who Delyghted too too much in wyne, and eyghteene other mo.All wee did go to Circes houses. As soone as wee came thither,And in the portall of the Hall had set our feete toogither,A thousand Lyons, wolves and beares did put us in a feareBy meeting us. But none of them was to bee feared there. For none of them could doo us harme: but with a gentle lookeAnd following us with fawning feete theyr wanton tayles they shooke.Anon did Damzells welcome us and led us through the hall(The which was made of marble stone, floore, arches, roof, and wall)To Circe. Shee sate underneathe a traverse in a chayre Aloft ryght rich and stately, in a chamber large and fayre.Shee ware a goodly longtreynd gowne: and all her rest attyreWas every whit of goldsmithes woork. There sate mee also by herThe Sea nymphes and her Ladyes whoose fyne fingers never knewWhat toozing wooll did meene, nor threede from whorled spindle drew. They sorted herbes, and picking out the flowers that were mixt,Did put them into mawnds, and with indifferent space betwixtDid lay the leaves and stalks on heapes according to theyr hew,And shee herself the woork of them did oversee and vew.The vertue and the use of them ryght perfectly shee knew, And in what leaf it lay, and which in mixture would agree.And so perusing every herb by good advysement, sheeDid wey them out. Assoone as shee us entring in did see,And greeting had bothe given and tane, shee looked cheerefully,And graunting all that we desyrde, commaunded by and by A certeine potion to bee made of barly parched dryeAnd wyne and hony mixt with cheese. And with the same shee slyeHad meynt the jewce of certeine herbes which unespyde did lyeBy reason of the sweetenesse of the drink. Wee tooke the cupDelivered by her wicked hand, and quaft it cleerely up With thirstye throtes. Which doone, and that the cursed witch had smitOur highest heare tippes with her wand, (it is a shame, but yitI will declare the truth) I wext all rough with bristled heare,And could not make complaint with woordes. In stead of speech I thereDid make a rawghtish grunting, and with groveling face gan beare My visage downeward to the ground. I felt a hooked groyneTo wexen hard uppon my mouth, and brawned neck to joyneMy head and shoulders. And the handes with which I late agoHad taken up the charmed cup, were turnd to feete as tho.Such force there is in Sorcerie. In fyne wyth other mo That tasted of the selfsame sawce, they shet mee in a Stye.From this missehappe Eurilochus alonly scapte. For whyHe only would not taste the cup, which had he not fled fro,He should have beene a bristled beast as well as we. And soShould none have borne Ulysses woorde of our mischaunce, nor hee Have come to Circe to revenge our harmes and set us free.The peaceprocurer Mercurie had given to him a whyghtFayre flowre whoose roote is black, and of the Goddes it Moly hyghtAssurde by this and heavenly hestes, he entred Circes bowre.And beeing bidden for to drink the cup of baleful powre, As Circe was about to stroke her wand uppon his heare,He thrust her backe, and put her with his naked swoord in feare.Then fell they to agreement streyght, and fayth in hand was plyght.And beeing made her bedfellowe, he claymed as in ryghtOf dowrye, for to have his men ageine in perfect plyght. Shee sprincled us with better jewce of uncowth herbes, and strakeThe awk end of her charmed rod uppon our heades, and spakeWoordes to the former contrarie. The more shee charmd, the moreArose wee upward from the ground on which wee daarde before.Our bristles fell away, the clift our cloven clees forsooke. Our shoulders did returne agein: and next our elbowes tookeOur armes and handes theyr former place. Then weeping wee enbraceOur Lord, and hing about his necke whoo also wept apace.And not a woord wee rather spake than such as myght appeereFrom harts most thankfull to proceede. Wee taryed theyr a yeere. I in that whyle sawe many things, and many things did heere.I marked also this one thing with store of other geereWhich one of Circes fowre cheef maydes (whoose office was alwayUppon such hallowes to attend) did secretly bewrayTo mee. For in the whyle my Lord with Circe kept alone, This mayd a yoongmannes image sheawd of fayre whyght marble stoneWithin a Chauncell. On the head therof were garlonds storeAnd eeke a woodspecke. And as I demaunded her wherforeAnd whoo it was they honord so in holy Church, and whyHe bare that bird uppon his head: shee answeering by and by Sayd: Lerne hereby, sir Macare, to understand the powreMy lady hathe, and marke thou well what I shall say this howre.