The Centaure Chyron in the while was glad of Phebus boy,And as the burthen brought some care the honor brought him joy.Upon a time with golden lockes about hir shoulders spread,A daughter of the Centaurs (whome a certaine Nymph had bredAbout the brooke Caycus bankes) that hight Ocyroe Came thither. This same fayre yong Nymph could not contented beTo learne the craft of Surgerie as perfect as hir Sire,But that to learne the secret doomes of Fate she must aspire.And therfore when the furious rage of frenzie had hir cought,And that the spright of Prophecie enflamed had hir thought, She lookt upon the childe and saide: Sweete babe the Gods thee makeA man. For all the world shall fare the better for thy sake.All sores and sicknesse shalt thou cure: thy powre shall eke be syche,To make the dead alive again. For doing of the whicheAgainst the pleasure of the Gods, thy Graundsire shall thee strike So with his fire, that never more thou shalt performe the like.And of a God a bludlesse corse, and of a corse (full straunge)Thou shalt become a God againe, and twice thy nature chaunge.And thou my father liefe and deare, who now by destinie,Art borne to live for evermore and never for to die, Shalt suffer such outragious paine throughout thy members all,By wounding of a venimde dart that on thy foote shall fall,That oft thou shalt desire to die, and in the latter endThe fatall dames shall breake thy threede and thy desire thee send.There was yet more behinde to tell, when sodenly she fet A sore deepe sigh, and downe hir cheekes the teares did trickle wet.Mine owne misfortune (quoth she) now hath overtake me sure.I cannot utter any more, for words waxe out of ure.My cunning was not worth so much as that it should procureThe wrath of God. I feele by proufe far better had it bene: If that the chaunce of things to come I never had foreseene.For now my native shape withdrawes. Me thinkes I have delightTo feede on grasse and fling in fieldes: I feele my selfe so light.I am transformed to a Mare like other of my kinne.But wherfore should this brutish shape all over wholy winne? Considering that although both horse and man my father bee:Yet is his better part a man as plainly is to see.The latter ende of this complaint was fumbled in such wise,As what she meant the standers by could scarcely well devise.Anon she neyther semde to speake nor fully for to ney, But like to one that counterfeites in sport the Mare to play.Within a while she neyed plaine, and downe hir armes were pightUpon the ground all clad with haire, and bare hir bodie right.Hir fingers joyned all in one, at ende wherof did growIn stede of nayles a round tough hoofe of welked horne bylow. Hir head and necke shot forth in length, hir kirtle trayne becameA faire long taile. Hir flaring haire was made a hanging Mane.And as hir native shape and voyce most monstrously did passe,So by the uncoth name of Mare she after termed was.
The Centaure Chyron wept hereat: and piteously dismaide Did call on thee (although in vaine) thou Delphian God for ayde.For neyther lay it in thy hande to breake Joves mighty hest,And though it had, yet in thy state as then thou did not rest.In Elis did thou then abide and in Messene lande.It was the time when under shape of shepehierde with a wande Of Olyve and a pipe of reedes thou kept Admetus sheepe.Now in this time that (save of Love) thou tooke none other keepe,And madste thee merrie with thy pipe, the glistring Maias sonneBy chaunce abrode the fields of Pyle spide certaine cattle runneWithout a hierde, the which he stole and closely did them hide Among the woods. This pretie slight no earthly creature spide,Save one old churle that Battus hight. This Battus had the chargeOf welthie Neleus feeding groundes, and all his pastures large,And kept a race of goodly Mares. Of him he was afraide.And lest by him his privie theft should chaunce to be bewraide, He tooke a bribe to stop his mouth, and thus unto him saide:My friend I pray thee if perchaunce that any man enquireThis cattell say thou saw them not. And take thou for thy hireThis faire yong Bullocke. Tother tooke the Bullocke at his hand,And shewing him a certaine stone that lay upon the lande, Sayd, go thy way: Assoone this stone thy doings shall bewray,As I shall doe. So Mercurie did seeme to go his way.Annon he commes me backe againe, and altred both in specheAnd outward shape, saide: Countrieman Ich heartely bezeche,And if thou zawest any kie come royling through this grounde, Or driven away, tell what he was and where they may be vownde.And I chill gethee vor thy paine an Hecfar and hir match.The Carle perceyving double gaine, and greedy for to catch,Sayde: Under yon same hill they were, and under yon same hillCham zure they are, and with his hand he poynted thereuntill. At that Mercurius laughing saide: False knave: and doste bewrayMe to my selfe? doste thou bewray me to my selfe I say?And with that word strayt to a stone he turnde his double heart,In which the slaunder yet remaines without the stones desart.
The Bearer of the charmed Rod, the suttle Mercurie, This done, arose with waving wings and from that place did flie.And as he hovered in the Ayre he viewde the fieldes bylowOf Atticke and the towne it selfe with all the trees that growIn Lycey where the learned Clarkes did wholsome preceptes show.By chaunce the verie selfesame day the virgins of the towne Of olde and auncient custome bare in baskets on their crowneBeset with garlands fresh and gay and strowde with flowres sweeteTo Pallas towre such sacrifice as was of custome meete.The winged God beholding them returning in a troupeContinued not directly forth, but gan me downe to stoupe, And fetch a wyndlasse round about. And as the hungry kiteBeholding unto sacrifice a Bullocke redie dight,Doth sore about his wished pray desirous for to snatcheBut that he dareth not for such as stand about and watch:So Mercurie with nimble wings doth keepe a lower gate About Minervas loftie towres in round and wheeling rate.As far as doth the Morning starre in cleare and streaming lightExcell all other starres in heaven: as far also as brightDame Phebe dimmes the Morning starre, so far did Herses faceStaine all the Ladies of hir troupe: she was the verie grace And beautie of that solemne pompe, and all that traine so fayre.Joves sonne was ravisht with the sight, and hanging in the ayreBegan to swelt within himselfe, in case as when the poulderHath driven the Pellet from the Gunne, the Pellet ginnes to smoulder:And in his flying waxe more hote. In smoking brest he shrowdes His flames not brought from heaven above but caught beneath the clouds.He leaves his jorney toward heaven and takes another raceNot minding any lenger time to hide his present case.So great a trust and confidence his beautie to him gaveWhich though it seemed of it selfe sufficient force to have, Yet was he curious for to make himselfe more fine and brave.He kembd his head and strokt his beard, and pried on every sideTo see that in his furniture no wrinkle might be spide.And forbicause his Cloke was fringde and garded brode with golde,He cast it on his shoulder up most seemely to beholde. He takes in hand his charmed rod that bringeth things asleepeAnd wakes them when he list againe. And lastly taketh keepeThat on his faire welformed feete his golden shooes sit cleene,And that all other things therto well correspondent beene.In Cecrops Court were Chambers three set far from all resort With yvorie beddes all furnished in far most royall sort.Of which Aglauros had the left and Pandrose had the right,And Herse had the middlemost. She that Aglauros hightFirst markt the comming of the God, and asking him his nameDemaunded him for what entent and cause he thither came. Pleiones Nephew, Maias sonne, did make hir aunswere thus:I am my fathers messenger, his pleasure to discusseTo mortall folke and hellish fiendes as list him to commaund.My father is the mightie Jove. To that thou doste demaundI will not feyne a false excuse. I aske no more but graunt To keepe thy sisters counsell close, and for to be the AuntOf such the issue as on hir my chaunce shalbe to get.Thy sister Herse is the cause that hath me hither fet.I pray thee beare thou with my love that is so firmely set.Aglauros cast on Mercurie hir scornfull eyes aside,With which against Minervas will hir secretes late she spide,Demaunding him in recompence a mighty masse of Golde:And would not let him enter in until the same were tolde.The warlike Goddesse cast on hir a sterne and cruell looke,And fetched such a cutting sigh that forcibly it shooke Both brest and brestplate, wherewithall it came unto hir thoughtHow that Aglauros late ago against hir will had wroughtIn looking on the Lemman childe contrarie to hir othe,The whiche she tooke hir in the chest, for which she waxed wrothe.Againe she saw hir cancred heart maliciously repine Against hir sister and the God. And furthermore in fineHow that the golde which Mercurie had given hir for hir meede,Would make hir both in welth and pride all others to exceede.She goes me straight to Envies house, a foule and irksome cave,Replete with blacke and lothly filth and stinking like a grave. It standeth in a hollow dale where neyther light of SunneNor blast of any winde or Ayre may for the deepenesse come.A dreyrie sad and dolefull den ay full of slouthfull coldeAs which ay dimd with smoldring smoke doth never fire beholde,When Pallas, that same manly Maide, approched nere this plot, She staide without, for to the house in enter might she not,And with hir Javelin point did give a push against the doore.The doore flue open by and by and fell me in the floore.There saw she Envie sit within fast gnawing on the fleshOf Snakes and Todes, the filthie foode that keepes hir vices fresh. It lothde hir to beholde the sight. Anon the Elfe aroseAnd left the gnawed Adders flesh, and slouthfully she goesWith lumpish laysure like a Snayle, and when she saw the faceOf Pallas and hir faire attire adournde with heavenly grace,She gave a sigh, a sorie sigh, from bottome of hir heart. Hir lippes were pale, hir cheekes were wan, and all hir face was swart:Hir bodie leane as any Rake. She looked eke askew.Hir teeth were furde with filth and drosse, hir gums were waryish blew.The working of hir festered gall had made hir stomacke greene.And all bevenimde was hir tongue. No sleepe hir eyes had seene. Continuall Carke and cankred care did keepe hir waking still:Of laughter (save at others harmes) the Helhound can no skill.It is against hir will that men have any good successe,And if they have, she frettes and fumes within hir minde no lesseThan if hir selfe had taken harme. In seeking to annoy And worke distresse to other folke, hir selfe she doth destroy.Thus is she torment to hir selfe. Though Pallas did hir hate,Yet spake she briefly these few wordes to hir without hir gate:Infect thou with thy venim one of Cecrops daughters three,It is Aglauros whome I meane, for so it needes must bee. This said, she pight hir speare in ground, and tooke hir rise thereon.And winding from that wicked wight did take hir flight anon.The Caitife cast hir eye aside, and seeing Pallas gon,Began to mumble with hir selfe the Divels Paternoster,And fretting at hir good successe, began to blow and bluster. She takes a crooked staffe in hand bewreathde with knubbed prickes,And covered with a coly cloude, where ever that she stickesHir filthie feete, she tramples downe and seares both grasse and corne:That all the fresh and fragrant fieldes seeme utterly forlorne.And with hir staffe she tippeth off the highest poppie heades. Such poyson also every where ungraciously she sheades,That every Cottage where she comes and every Towne and CitieDoe take infection at hir breath. At length (the more is pitie)She found the faire Athenian towne that flowed freshly thenIn feastfull peace and joyfull welth and learned witts of men. And forbicause she nothing saw that might provoke to weepe,It was a corsie to hir heart hir hatefull teares to keepe.Now when she came within the Court, she went without delayDirectly to the lodgings where King Cecrops daughters lay,There did she as Minerva bad. She laide hir scurvie fist Besmerde with venim and with filth upon Aglauros brist,The whiche she filde with hooked thornes: and breathing on hir faceDid shead the poyson in hir bones: which spred it selfe apace,As blacke as ever virgin pitch through Lungs and Lights and all.And to th'intent that cause of griefe abundantly should fall, She placed ay before hir eyes hir sisters happie chaunceIn being wedded to the God, and made the God to glaunceContinually in heavenly shape before hir wounded thought.And all these things she painted out, which in conclusion wroughtSuch corsies in Aglauros brest that sighing day and night She gnawde and fretted in hir selfe for very cancred spight.And like a wretche she wastes hir selfe with restlesse care and pineLike as the yse whereon the Sunne with glimering light doth shine.Hir sister Herses good successe doth make hir heart to yerne,In case as when that fire is put to greenefeld wood or fearne Whych giveth neyther light nor heate, but smulders quite away:Sometime she minded to hir Sire hir sister to bewray,Who (well she knew) would yll abide so lewde a part to play.And oft she thought with wilfull hande to brust hir fatall threede,Bicause she woulde not see the thing that made hir heart to bleede. At last she sate hir in the doore and leaned to a postTo let the God from entring in. To whome now having lostMuch talke and gentle wordes in vayne, she said: Sir, leave I prayFor hence I will not (be you sure) onlesse you go away.I take thee at thy word (quoth he) and therewithall he pusht His rod against the barred doore, and wide it open rusht.She making proffer for to rise, did feele so great a waightThrough all hir limmes, that for hir life she could not stretch hir straight.She strove to set hirself upright: but striving booted not.Hir hamstrings and hir knees were stiffe, a chilling colde had got In at hir nayles, through all hir limmes. And eke hir veynes beganFor want of bloud and lively heate, to waxe both pale and wan.And as the freting Fistula forgrowne and past all cureRunnes in the flesh from place to place, and makes the sound and pureAs bad or worser than the rest, even so the cold of death Strake to hir heart, and closde hir veines, and lastly stopt hir breath:She made no profer for to speake, and though she had done soIt had bene vaine. For way was none for language forth to go.Hir throte congealed into stone: hir mouth became hard stone,And like an image sate she still, hir bloud was clearely gone,The which the venim of hir heart so fowly did infect,That ever after all the stone with freckled spots was spect.
When Mercurie had punisht thus Aglauros spightfull tungAnd cancred heart, immediatly from Pallas towne he flung.And flying up with flittering wings did pierce to heaven above. His father calde him straight aside (but shewing not his love)Said: Sonne, my trustie messenger and worker of my will,Make no delay but out of hand flie downe in hast untillThe land that on the left side lookes upon thy mothers light,Yon same where standeth on the coast the towne that Sidon hight. The King hath there a heirde of Neate that on the Mountaines feede,Go take and drive them to the sea with all convenient speede.He had no sooner said the word but that the heirde begunDriven from the mountaine to the shore appointed for to run,Whereas the daughter of the King was wonted to resort With other Ladies of the Court there for to play and sport.Betweene the state of Majestie and love is set such oddes,As that they can not dwell in one. The Sire and King of GoddesWhose hand is armd with triplefire, who only with his frowneMakes Sea and Land and Heaven to quake, doth lay his scepter downe With all the grave and stately port belonging thereunto:And putting on the shape of Bull (as other cattell doe)Goes lowing gently up and downe among them in the fieldThe fairest beast to looke upon that ever man beheld.For why? his colour was as white as any winters snow Before that eyther trampling feete or Southerne winde it thow.His necke was brawnd with rolles of flesh, and from his chest beforeA dangling dewlap hung me downe good halfe a foote and more.His hornes were small, but yet so fine as that ye would have thoughtThey had bene made by cunning hand or out of waxe bene wrought. More cleare they were a hundreth fold than is the Christall stone,In all his forehead fearfull frowne or wrinkle there was none.No fierce, no grim, nor griesly looke as other cattle have,But altogether so demure as friendship seemde to crave.Agenors daughter marveld much so tame a beast to see,But yet to touche him at the first too bolde she durst not bee.Annon she reaches to his mouth hir hand with herbes and flowres.The loving beast was glad thereof and neither frownes nor lowres.But till the hoped joy might come with glad and fauning cheareHe lickes hir hands and scarce ah scarce the resdue he forbeare. Sometime he friskes and skippes about and showes hir sport at handAnnon he layes his snowie side against the golden sand.So feare by little driven away, he offred eft his brestTo stroke and coy, and eft his hornes with flowers to be drest.At last Europa knowing not (for so the Maide was calde) On whome she venturde for to ride, was nerawhit appaldeTo set hir selfe upon his backe. Then by and by the GodFrom maine drie land to maine moyst Sea gan leysurly to plod.At first he did but dip his feete within the outmost wave,And backe againe, then further in another plunge he gave. And so still further till at the last he had his wished prayAmid the deepe where was no meanes to scape with life away.The Ladie quaking all for feare with rufull countnance castAy toward shore from whence she came, held with hir righthand fastOne of his hornes: and with the left did stay upon his backe. The weather flaskt and whisked up hir garments being slacke.