Metamorphoses

Ovid

Ovid. The XV bookes of P. Ouidius Naso, entytuled Metamorphosis. Golding, Arthur, translator. London: W. Seres (printer), 1567.

And as for Philoctetes, that he is in Lemnos, I
Deserve not to bee toucht therwith. Defend your cryme: for why
You all consented therunto. Yit doo I not denye,
But that I gave the counsell to convey him out of way
From toyle of warre and travell that by rest he myght assay
To ease the greatnesse of his peynes. He did thereto obey
And by so dooing is alyve. Not only faythfull was
This counsell that I gave the man, but also happye, as
The good successe hath shewed since. Whom sith the destnyes doo
Requyre in overthrowing Troy, appoynt not mee thertoo:
But let sir Ajax rather go. For he with eloquence
Or by some suttle pollycie, shall bring the man fro thence
And pacyfie him raging through disease, and wrathfull ire.
Nay, first the river Simois shall to his spring retyre,
And mountaine Ida shall theron have stonding never a tree,
Yea and the faythlesse towne of Troy by Greekes shall reskewd bee,
Before that Ajax blockish wit shall aught at all avayle,
When my attempts and practyses in your affayres doo fayle.
For though thou, Philoctetes, with the king offended bee,
And with thy fellowes everychone, and most of all with mee,
Although thou cursse and ban mee to the hellish pit for ay,
And wisshest in thy payne that I by chaunce myght crosse thy way,
Of purpose for to draw my blood: yit will I give assay
To fetch thee hither once ageine. And (if that fortune say
Amen,) I will as well have thee and eeke thyne arrowes, as
I have the Trojane prophet whoo by mee surprysed was,
Or as I did the Oracles and Trojane fates disclose,
Or as I from her chappell through the thickest of her foes
The Phrygian Pallads image fetcht: and yit dooth Ajax still
Compare himself with mee. Yee knowe it was the destinyes will
That Troy should never taken bee by any force, untill
This Image first were got. And where was then our valeant knight
Sir Ajax? Where the stately woordes of such a hardy wyght?
Why feareth hee? Why dares Ulysses ventring through the watch
Commit his persone to the nyght his buysnesse to dispatch?
And through the pykes not only for to passe the garded wall
But also for to enter to the strongest towre of all
And for to take the Idoll from her Chappell and her shryne
And beare her thence amid his foes? For had this deede of myne
Beene left undoone, in vayne his sheeld of Oxen hydes seven fold
Should yit the Sonne of Telamon have in his left hand hold.
That nyght subdewed I Troy towne. That nyght did I it win,
And opened it for you likewyse with ease to enter in.
Cease to upbrayd mee by theis lookes and mumbling woordes of thyne
With Diomed: his prayse is in this fact as well as myne.
And thou thy selfe when for our shippes thou diddest in reskew stand,
Wart not alone: the multitude were helping thee at hand.
I had but only one with mee. Whoo (if he had not thought
A wyseman better than a strong, and that preferment ought
Not alway followe force of hand) would now himself have sought
This Armour. So would toother Ajax better stayed doo,
And feerce Ewrypyle, and the sonne of hault Andremon too.
No lesse myght eeke Idominey, and eeke Meriones,
His countryman, and Menelay. For every one of these
Are valeant men of hand, and not inferior unto thee
In martiall feates. And yit they are contented rulde to bee
By myne advyce. Thou hast a hand that serveth well in fyght.
Thou hast a wit that stands in neede of my direction ryght.
Thy force is witlesse. I have care of that that may ensew.
Thou well canst fyght: the king dooth choose the tymes for fyghting dew
By myne advyce. Thou only with thy body canst avayle.
But I with bodye and with mynd to profite doo not fayle,
And looke how much the mayster dooth excell the gally slave,
Or looke how much preheminence the Capteine ought to have
Above his souldyer: even so much excell I also thee.
A wit farre passing strength of hand inclosed is in mee.
In wit rests cheefly all my force. My Lordes, I pray bestowe
This gift on him who ay hath beene your watchman as yee knowe.
And for my tenne yeeres cark and care endured for your sake
Full recompence for my deserts with this same honour make.
Our labour draweth to an end, all lets are now by mee
Dispatched. And by bringing Troy in cace to taken bee
I have already taken it. Now by the hope that yee
Conceyve, within a whyle of Troy the mine for to see,
And by the Goddes of whom alate our emnyes I bereft,
And as by wisedome to bee doone yit any thing is left,
If any bold aventrous deede, or any perlous thing,
That asketh hazard both of lyfe and limb to passe to bring,
Or if yee think of Trojane fates there yit dooth ought remayne,
Remember mee. Or if from mee this armour you restrayne,
Bestowe it on this same. With that he shewed with his hand
Minervas fatall image, which hard by in syght did stand.
The Lords were moved with his woordes, and then appeared playne
The force that is in eloquence. The lerned man did gayne
The armour of the valeant. He that did so oft susteine
Alone both fyre, and swoord, and Jove, and Hector could not byde
One brunt of wrath. And whom no force could vanquish ere that tyde,
Now only anguish overcommes. He drawes his swoord and sayes:
Well: this is myne yit. Unto this no clayme Ulysses layes.
This must I use ageinst myself: this blade that heretofore
Hath bathed beene in Trojane blood, must now his mayster gore
That none may Ajax overcome save Ajax. With that woord
Into his brest (not wounded erst) he thrust his deathfull swoord.
His hand to pull it out ageine unable was. The blood
Did spout it out. Anon the ground bestayned where he stood,
Did breede the pretye purple flowre uppon a clowre of greene,
Which of the wound of Hyacinth had erst engendred beene.
The selfsame letters eeke that for the chyld were written than,
Were now againe amid the flowre new written for the man.
The former tyme complaynt, the last a name did represent.

Ulysses, having wonne the pryse, within a whyle was sent
To Thoants and Hysiphiles realme, the land defamde of old
For murthering all the men therin by women over bold.
At length attayning land and lucke according to his mynd,
To carry Hercles arrowes backe he set his sayles to wynd.
Which when he with the lord of them among the Greekes had brought,
And of the cruell warre at length the utmost feate had wrought,
At once both Troy and Priam fell. And Priams wretched wife
Lost (after all) her womans shape, and barked all her lyfe
In forreine countrye. In the place that bringeth to a streight
The long spred sea of Hellespont, did Ilion burne in height.
The kindled fyre with blazing flame continewed unalayd,
And Priam with his aged blood Joves Altar had berayd.
And Phebus preestesse casting up her handes to heaven on hye,
Was dragd and haled by the heare. The Grayes most spyghtfully
(As eche of them had prisoners tane in meede of victorye)
Did drawe the Trojane wyves away, who lingring whyle they mought
Among the burning temples of theyr Goddes, did hang about
Theyr sacred shrynes and images. Astyanax downe was cast
From that same turret from the which his moother in tyme past
Had shewed him his father stand oft fyghting to defend
Himself and that same famous realme of Troy that did descend
From many noble auncetors. And now the northerne wynd
With prosperous blasts, to get them thence did put the Greekes in mynd.
The shipmen went aboord, and hoyst up sayles, and made fro thence.
Adeew deere Troy (the women cryde), wee haled are from hence.
And therwithall they kist the ground, and left yit smoking still
Theyr native houses. Last of all tooke shippe ageinst her will
Queene Hecub: who (a piteous cace to see) was found amid
The tumbes in which her sonnes were layd. And there as Hecub did
Embrace theyr chists and kisse theyr bones, Ulysses voyd of care
Did pull her thence. Yit raught shee up, and in her boosom bare
Away a crum of Hectors dust, and left on Hectors grave
Her hory heares and teares, which for poore offrings shee him gave.
Ageinst the place where Ilion was, there is another land
Manured by the Biston men. In this same Realme did stand
King Polemnestors palace riche, to whom king Priam sent
His little infant Polydore to foster, to th'entent
He might bee out of daunger from the warres: wherin he ment
Ryght wysely, had he not with him great riches sent, a bayt
To stirre a wicked covetous mynd to treason and deceyt.
For when the state of Troy decayd, the wicked king of Thrace
Did cut his nurcechylds weazant, and (as though the sinfull cace
Toogither with the body could have quyght beene put away)
He threw him also in the sea. It happened by the way,
That Agamemnon was compeld with all his fleete to stay
Uppon the coast of Thrace, untill the sea were wexen calme,
And till the hideous stormes did cease, and furious wynds were falne.
Heere rysing gastly from the ground which farre about him brake,
Achilles with a threatning looke did like resemblance make
As when at Agamemnon he his wrongfull swoord did shake,
And sayd: Unmyndfull part yee hence of mee, O Greekes, and must
My merits thanklesse thus with mee be buryed in the dust?
Nay, doo not so. But to th'entent my death dew honour have,
Let Polyxene in sacrifyse bee slayne uppon my grave.
Thus much he sayd: and shortly his companions dooing as
By vision of his cruell ghost commaundment given them was,
Did fetch her from her mothers lappe, whom at that tyme, well neere,
In that most great adversitie alonly shee did cheere.
The haultye and unhappye mayd, and rather to bee thought
A man than woman, to the tumb with cruell hands was brought,
To make a cursed sacrifyse. Whoo mynding constantly
Her honour, when shee standing at the Altar prest to dye,
Perceyvd the savage ceremonies in making ready, and
The cruell Neoptolemus with naked swoord in hand
Stand staring with ungentle eyes uppon her gentle face,
She sayd: Now use thou when thou wilt my gentle blood. The cace
Requyres no more delay. Bestow thy weapon in my chest,
Or in my throte: (in saying so shee proferred bare her brest,
And eeke her throte). Assure your selves it never shalbee seene,
That any wyght shall (by my will) have slave of Polyxeene.
Howbee't with such a sacrifyse no God yee can delyght.
I would desyre no more but that my wretched moother myght
Bee ignorant of this my death. My moother hindreth mee,
And makes the pleasure of my death much lesser for to bee.
Howbeeit not the death of mee should justly greeve her hart:
But her owne lyfe. Now to th'entent I freely may depart
To Limbo, stand yee men aloof: and sith I aske but ryght
Forebeare to touch mee. So my blood unsteyned in his syght
Shall farre more acceptable been what ever wyght he bee
Whom you prepare to pacifye by sacrifysing mee.
Yit (if that these last woordes of myne may purchace any grace),
I, daughter of king Priam erst, and now in prisoners cace,
Beeseeche you all unraunsomed to render to my moother
My bodye: and for buriall of the same to take none other
Reward than teares: for whyle shee could shee did redeeme with gold.
This sayd: the teares that shee forbare the people could not hold.
And even the verry preest himself full sore ageinst his will
And weeping, thrust her through the brest which she hild stoutly still.
Shee sinking softly to the ground with faynting legges, did beare
Even to the verry latter gasp a countnance voyd of feare.
And when shee fell, shee had a care such parts of her to hyde,
As womanhod and chastitie forbiddeth to be spyde.
The Trojane women tooke her up, and moorning reckened
King Priams children, and what blood that house alone had shed.
They syghde for fayer Polyxeene: they syghed eeke for thee
Who late wart Priams wyfe, whoo late wart counted for to bee
The flowre of Asia in his flowre, and Queene of moothers all:
But now the bootye of the fo as evill lot did fall,
And such a bootye as the sly Ulysses did not passe
Uppon her, saving that erewhyle shee Hectors moother was.
So hardly for his moother could a mayster Hector fynd.
Embracing in her aged armes the bodye of the mynd
That was so stout, shee powrd theron with sobbing syghes unsoft
The teares that for her husband and her children had so oft
And for her countrye sheaded beene. Shee weeped in her wound
And kist her pretye mouth, and made her brist with shrekes to sound,
According to her woonted guyse, and in the jellyed blood
Beerayed all her grisild heare, and in a sorrowfull mood
Sayd theis and many other woordes with brest bescratcht and rent:

O daughter myne, the last for whom thy moother may lament,
(For what remaynes?) O daughter, thou art dead and gone. I see
Thy wound which at the verry hart strikes mee as well as thee.
And lest that any one of myne unwounded should depart,
Thou also gotten hast a wound. Howbee't bycause thou wart
A woman, I beleeved thee from weapon to bee free.
But notwithstanding that thou art a woman, I doo see
Thee slayne by swoord. Even he that kild thy brothers killeth thee,
Achilles, the decay of Troy and maker bare of mee.
What tyme that he of Paris shaft by Phebus meanes was slayne,
I sayd of feerce Achilles now no feare dooth more remayne.
But then, even then he most of all was feared for to bee.
The asshes of him rageth still ageinst our race I see.
Wee feele an emny of him dead and buryed in his grave.
To feede Achilles furie, I a frutefull issue gave.
Great Troy lyes under foote, and with a ryght great greevous fall
The mischeeves of the common weale are fully ended all.
But though to others Troy be gone, yit standes it still to mee:
My sorrowes ronne as fresh a race as ever and as free.
I late ago a sovereine state, advaunced with such store
Of daughters, sonnes, and sonneinlawes, and husband over more
And daughtrinlawes, am caryed like an outlawe bare and poore,
By force and violence haled from my childrens tumbes, to bee
Presented to Penelope a gift, who shewing mee
In spinning my appoynted taske, shall say: This same is shee
That was sumtyme king Priams wyfe, this was the famous moother
Of Hector. And now after losse of such a sort of other,
Thou (whoo alonly in my greefe my comfort didst remayne,)
To pacifye our emnyes wrath uppon his tumb art slayne.
Thus bare I deathgyfts for my foes. To what intent am I
Most wretched wyght remayning still? Why doo I linger? Why
Dooth hurtfull age preserve mee still alive? To what intent,
Yee cruell Goddes, reserve yee mee that hath already spent
Too manye yeeres, onlesse it bee new buryalls for to see?
And whoo would think that Priamus myght happy counted bee
Sith Troy is razed? Happy man is hee in being dead.
His lyfe and kingdoome he forwent toogither: and this stead
He sees not thee, his daughter, slaine. But peradventure thou
Shall like the daughter of a king have sumptuous buryall now,
And with thy noble auncetors thy bodye layd shall bee.
Our linage hath not so good lucke. The most that shall to thee
Bee yeelded are thy moothers teares, and in this forreine land
To hyde thy murthered corce withall a little heape of sand.
For all is lost. Nay yit remaynes (for whome I well can fynd
In hart to live a little whyle) an imp unto my mynd
Most deere, now only left alone, sumtyme of many mo
The yoongest, little Polydore, delivered late ago
To Polemnestor, king of Thrace, whoo dwelles within theis bounds.
But wherefore doo I stay so long in wasshing of her wounds,
And face berayd with gory blood? In saying thus, shee went
To seaward with an aged pace and hory heare beerent.
And (wretched woman) as shee calld for pitchers for to drawe
Up water, shee of Polydore on shore the carkesse sawe,
And eeke the myghty wounds at which the Tyrants swoord went thurrow.
The Trojane Ladyes shreeked out. But shee was dumb for sorrow.
The anguish of her hart forclosde as well her speech as eeke
Her teares devowring them within. Shee stood astonyed leeke
As if shee had beene stone. One whyle the ground shee staard uppon.
Another whyle a gastly looke shee kest to heaven. Anon
Shee looked on the face of him that lay before her killd.
Sumtymes his woundes, (his woundes I say) shee specially behilld.
And therwithall shee armd her selfe and furnisht her with ire:
Wherethrough as soone as that her hart was fully set on fyre,
As though shee still had beene a Queene, to vengeance shee her bent
Enforcing all her witts to fynd some kynd of ponnishment.
And as a Lyon robbed of her whelpes becommeth wood,
And taking on the footing of her emnye where hee stood,
Purseweth him though out of syght: even so Queene Hecubee
(Now having meynt her teares with wrath) forgetting quyght that shee
Was old, but not her princely hart, to Polemnestor went
The cursed murtherer, and desyrde his presence to th'entent
To shew to him a masse of gold (so made shee her pretence)
Which for her lyttle Polydore was hid not farre from thence.
The Thracian king beleeving her, as eager of the pray,
Went with her to a secret place. And as they there did stay,
With flattring and deceytfull toong he thus to her did say:
Make speede I prey thee, Hecuba, and give thy sonne this gold.
I sweare by God it shall bee his, as well that I doo hold
Already, as that thou shalt give. Uppon him speaking so,
And swearing and forswearing too, shee looked sternely tho,
And beeing sore inflaamd with wrath, caught hold uppon him, and
Streyght calling out for succor to the wyves of Troy at hand
Did in the traytors face bestowe her nayles, and scratched out
His eyes, her anger gave her hart and made her strong and stout.
Shee thrust her fingars in as farre as could bee, and did bore
Not now his eyes (for why his eyes were pulled out before)
But bothe the places of the eyes berayd with wicked blood.
The Thracians at theyr Tyrannes harme for anger wexing wood,
Began to scare the Trojane wyves with darts and stones. Anon
Queene Hecub ronning at a stone, with gnarring seazd theron,
And wirryed it beetweene her teeth. And as shee opte her chappe
To speake, in stead of speeche shee barkt. The place of this missehappe
Remayneth still, and of the thing there done beares yit the name.
Long myndfull of her former illes, shee sadly for the same
Went howling in the feeldes of Thrace. Her fortune moved not
Her Trojans only, but the Greekes her foes to ruthe: her lot
Did move even all the Goddes to ruthe: and so effectually,
That Hecub to deserve such end even Juno did denye.

Although the Morning of the selfsame warres had favorer beene:
Shee had no leysure to lament the fortune of the Queene,
Nor on the slaughters and the fall of Ilion for to think.
A household care more neerer home did in her stomacke sink,
For Memnon her beloved sonne, whom dying shee behild
Uppon the feerce Achilles speare amid the Phrygian feeld.
She saw it, and her ruddy hew with which shee woonted was
To dye the breaking of the day, did into palenesse passe:
And all the skye was hid with clowdes. But when his corce was gone
To burningward, shee could not fynd in hart to looke theron:
But with her heare about her eares shee kneeled downe before
The myghtye Jove, and thus gan speake unto him weeping sore:
Of al that have theyr dwelling place uppon the golden skye
The lowest (for through all the world the feawest shrynes have I)
But yit a Goddesse, I doo come, not that thou shouldst decree
That Altars, shrynes, and holydayes bee made to honour mee.
Yit if thou marke how much that I a woman doo for thee,
In keeping nyght within her boundes, by bringing in the light,
Thou well mayst thinke mee worthy sum reward to clayme of ryght.
But neyther now is that the thing the Morning cares to have,
Ne yit her state is such as now dew honour for to crave.
Bereft of my deere Memnon who in fyghting valeantly
To help his uncle, (so it was your will, O Goddes) did dye
Of stout Achilles sturdye speare even in his flowring pryme,
I sue to thee, O king of Goddes, to doo him at this tyme
Sum honour as a comfort of his death, and ease this hart
Of myne which greatly greeved is with wound of percing smart.
No sooner Jove hadgraunted dame Aurora her desyre
But that the flame of Memnons corce that burned in the fyre
Did fall: and flaky rolles of smoke did dark the day, as when
A foggy mist steames upward from a River or a fen,
And suffreth not the Sonne to shyne within it. Blacke as cole
The cinder rose: and into one round lump assembling whole
Grew grosse, and tooke bothe shape and hew. The fyre did lyfe it send,
The lyghtnesse of the substance self did wings unto it lend.
And at the first it flittred like a bird: and by and by
It flew a fethered bird in deede. And with that one gan fly
Innumerable mo of selfsame brood: whoo once or twyce
Did sore about the fyre, and made a piteous shreeking thryce.
The fowrth tyme in theyr flying round, themselves they all withdrew
In battells twayne, and feercely foorth of eyther syde one flew
To fyght a combate. With theyr billes and hooked talants keene
And with theyr wings couragiously they wreakt theyr wrathfull teene.
And myndfull of the valeant man of whom they issued beene,
They never ceased jobbing eche uppon the others brest,
Untill they falling both downe dead with fyghting overprest,
Had offred up theyr bodyes as a woorthy sacrifyse
Unto theyr cousin Memnon who to Asshes burned lyes.
Theis soodeine birds were named of the founder of theyr stocke:
For men doo call them Memnons birds. And every yeere a flocke
Repayre to Memnons tumb, where twoo doo in the foresayd wyse
In manner of a yeeremynd slea themselves in sacrifyse.
Thus where as others did lament that Dymants daughter barkt,
Auroras owne greef busyed her, that smally shee it markt
Which thing shee to this present tyme with piteous teares dooth shewe:
For through the universall world shee sheadeth moysting deawe.

Yit suffred not the destinyes all hope to perrish quyght
Togither with the towne of Troy. That good and godly knyght
The sonne of Venus bare away by nyght uppon his backe
His 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 Ile
Antandros, and he shonnes the shore of Thracia which ere whyle
The wicked Tyrants treason did with Polydores blood defyle.
And having wynd and tyde at will, he saufly wyth his trayne
Arryved 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 hold
When 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 anon
Repaste 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 sonne
Who 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 showe
His love, a greater gift uppon his susters did bestowe
Then could bee wisht or credited. For whatsoever they
Did 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 same
In part, an hoste he hither sent, and whither I would or no
Did take them from mee, forcing them among the Greekes to go
To feede the Greekish army with theyr heavenly gift. But they
Escapde whither they could by flyght. A couple tooke theyr way
To 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 feare
Subdewing 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 (who
Did make your warre last ten yeeres long) the countrye to defend.
Now when they should like prisoners have beene fettred, in the end
They 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 wyse
To alter folke. For never could I lerne ne can surmyse
The 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 erewhyle
Did send it out of Thessaly: but Alcon one of Myle
Did 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 head
And 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 out
Echions daughters twayne, of which the one with courage stout
Did 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 theruppon
They both were caryed solemly on herces, and anon
Were 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 furthermore
A Crowne of gold wherin were set of precious stones great store.

Then calling to remembrance that the Trojans issued were
Of Tewcers blood, they sayld to Crete. But long they could not there
Abyde 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 shore
Among 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 yit
At 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 most
Ungracious fyre by taking wings. From thence they coasted by
The countrye of the Pheaks fraught with frute abundantly.
Then tooke they land in Epyre, and to Buthrotos they went
Wheras the Trojane prophet dwelt, whoose reigne did represent
An image of theyr auncient Troy. There being certifyde
Of things to come by Helen (whoo whyle there they did abyde
Informed them ryght faythfully of all that should betyde)
They passed into Sicilie. With corners three this land
Shootes 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 tydes
And 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 downe
Is patched up with cruell curres: and upward to the crowne
Dooth keepe the countnance of a mayd, and (if that all bee trew
That 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 heare
Sayd thus with syghes: But they that sought to thee (O Lady) were
None other than of humane kynd, to whom without all feare
Of harme, thou myghtest (as thou doost) give nay. But as for mee
Although 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 mayd
Had 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 became
A joy to bothe his parents, but to mee the greater joy.
For being but a sixteene yeeres of age, this fayre sweete boy
Did take mee to his love, what tyme about his chyldish chin
The tender heare like mossy downe to sprowt did first begin.
I loved him beyond all Goddes forbod, and likewyse mee
The Giant Cyclops. Neyther (if demaunded it should bee)
I well were able for to tell you whither that the love
Of Acis, or the Cyclops hate did more my stomacke move.
There was no oddes betweene them. Oh deere Goddesse Venus, what
A powre haste thou? Behold how even this owgly Giant that
No sparke of meekenesse in him hath, whoo is a terrour to
The verrye woodes, whom never guest nor straunger came unto
Without 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 takes
Delyght 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 passe
And repasse saufly. In the whyle that he in love thus was,
One Telemus, Ewrymeds sonne, a man of passing skill
In birdflyght, taking land that tyme in Sicill, went untill
The orped Gyant Polypheme, and sayd: This one round eye
That now amid thy forehead stands shall one day ere thou dye
By 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 before
There shoots a hill into the Sea: whereof the sea dooth beate
On eyther syde. The one eyd feend came up and made his seate
Theron, and after came his sheepe undriven. As soone as hee
Had at his foote layd downe his staffe which was a whole Pyne tree
Well able for to bee a maast to any shippe, he takes
His pype compact of fyvescore reedes, and therwithall he makes
So 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 lappe
Of 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 greef
To tarrye from mee. Yea thou wouldst endeavour all thy powre
To keepe mee wholly to thy self. The Quarry is my bowre
Heawen 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 hand
The 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 full
Of 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 besyde
Doo 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 ware
Shet up at home in cloce warme peends, are Lambes. There also are
In other pinfolds Kidds of selfsame yeaning tyme. Thus have
I alwayes mylke as whyte as snow. Wherof I sum doo save
To drink, and of the rest is made good cheese. And furthermore
Not only stale and common gifts and pleasures wherof store
Is 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 day
A 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 say
Theis 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 bee
A jollye fellow. For even now I did behold and see
Myne image in the water sheere, and sure mee thought I tooke
Delyght 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 heare
Dooth overdreepe my visage grim, and shadowes as it were
A grove uppon my shoulders twayne. And think it not to bee
A 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 eye
Hath 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 thee
Yeeld I. Even I of whom bothe heaven and Jove despysed bee
And eeke the percing thunderbolt, doo stand in awe and feare
Of thee, O Nerye. Thyne ill will is greevouser to beare
Than is the deadly Thunderclappe. Yit could I better fynd
In hart to suffer this contempt of thyne with pacient mynd
If thou didst shonne all other folk as well as mee. But why
Rejecting Cyclops doost thou love dwarf Acis? Why say I
Preferst thou Acis unto mee? Well, let him liked bee
Both 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 his
I will in peeces teare, and strew them in the feeldes, and in
Thy 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 talkt
Thus much in vayne, (I sawe well all) he rose: and fuming stalkt
Among his woodes and woonted Lawndes, as dooth a Bulchin, when
The 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 became
An angry Giant. Aetna shooke with lowdnesse of the same.
I scaard therwith dopt underneathe the water, and the knyght
Simethus 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 peece
Did 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 passe
That Acis should receyve the force his father had before.
His scarlet blood did issue from the lump, and more and more
Within a whyle the rednesse gan to vannish: and the hew
Resembled 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 water
Came trickling out. And by and by (which is a woondrous matter)
The stripling with a wreath of reede about his horned head
Avaunst his body to the waste. Whoo (save he was that stead
Much biggar than he erst had beene, and altogither gray)
Was Acis still. And being turnd to water, at this day
In 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 shore
Stark 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 swim
Along 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 shoote
A 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 round
Who 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 myght
Nor yit the sonne of Athamas that now Palaemon hyght.
Yit once I was a mortall man. But you must know that I
Was 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 half
Is 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 by
Began 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 hand
The grasse, I bote it with my toothe. My throte had scarcely yit
Well swallowed downe the uncouth jewce, when like an agew fit
I 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 threw
My 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 ryme
That purgeth all prophanednesse, they charged mee that tyme
To put my brestbulk underneathe a hundred streames. Anon
The brookes from sundry coastes and all the Seas did ryde uppon
My head. From whence as soone as I returned, by and by
I felt my self farre otherwyse through all my limbes, than I
Had 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 feete
Confounded into finned fish. But what avayleth mee
This 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 way
To Circes, Titans daughters, Court which full of monsters lay.

Now had th'Ewboyan fisherman (whoo lately was becomme
A God of sea to dwell in sea for ay,) alreadye swomme
Past Aetna which uppon the face of Giant Typho lyes,
Toogither with the pasture of the Cyclops which defyes
Both 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 in
With two mayne landes on eyther syde, is as a bound betwin
The frutefull Realmes of Italy and Sicill. From that place
He cutting through the Tyrrhene sea with both his armes apace,
Arryved at the grassye hilles and at the Palace hye
Of Circe, Phoebus imp, which full of sundry beastes did lye.
When Glaucus in her presence came, and had her greeted, and
Receyved 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 I
The 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 take
The gentle woordes and promises and sute that I did make.
But if that any powre at all consist in charmes, then let
That sacret mouth of thyne cast charmes: or if more force bee set
In herbes to compasse things withall, then use the herbes that have
Most strength in woorking. Neyther think, I hither come to crave
A 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 fyre
Than such as shee is) (whither that the cause of this desyre
Were only in herself, or that Dame Venus bearing ay
In mynd her fathers deede in once disclosing of her play,
Did stirre her heereunto) sayd thus: It were a better way
For thee to fancye such a one whoose will and whole desyre
Is bent to thine, and whoo is sindgd with selfsame kynd of fyre.
Thou woorthye art of sute to thee. And (credit mee) thou shouldst
Bee 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 deede
Avenge thy self of twayne. To her intreating thus to speede,
First trees shall grow (quoth Glaucus) in the sea, and reeke shall thryve
In toppes of hilles, ere I (as long as Scylla is alyve)
Doo chaunge my love. The Goddesse wext ryght wroth: and sith she could
Not hurt his persone beeing falne in love with him, ne would:
Shee spyghted her that was preferd before her. And uppon
Displeasure 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 rowt
Of savage beastes that in her court came fawning round abowt,
And going unto Rhegion cliffe which standes ageinst the shore
Of 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 hand
A little plash that bowwed like a bowe that standeth bent,
Where Scylla woonted was to rest herself, and thither went
From 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 frame
Defyled 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 came
Within 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 meynt
As parts therof, shee started back, and rated them. And sore
Shee was afrayd the eager curres should byght her. But the more
Shee 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 refusde
That 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, shee
Had 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 readye
To have arryvde in Italy, the wynd did ryse so heady,
And that it drave them backe uppon the coast of Affricke. There
The Tyrian Queene (whoo afterward unpaciently should beare
The 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 sacrifyse
Shee goard herself upon a swoord, and in most wofull wyse
As 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 agen
To Sicill, where his faythfull freend Acestes reignd. And when
He there had doone his sacrifyse, and kept an Obit at
His fathers tumb, he out of hand did mend his Gallyes that
Dame Iris, Junos messenger, had burned up almost.
And sayling thence he kept his course aloof along the coast
Of Aeolye and of Vulcanes lies the which of brimston smol
And passing by the Meremayds rocks, (His Pilot by a stroke
Of tempest being drownd in sea) he sayld by Prochite, and
Inarime, and (which uppon a barreine hill dooth stand)
The land of Ape Ile, which dooth take that name of people s'ie
There dwelling. For the Syre of Goddes abhorring utterly
The leawdnesse of the Cercops, and theyr wilfull perjurye,
And eeke theyr guylefull dealing did transforme them everyclone
Into an evillfavored kynd of beast: that beeing none
They myght yit still resemble men. He knit in lesser space
Theyr 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, and
Went unto longlyvde Sybills house, with whom he went in hand
That 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 prophesye
Was entred her, shee raysing them did thus ageine reply:
O most renowmed wyght, of whom the godlynesse by fyre
And 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 showe
A 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 lay
And eeke the aged Ghost of stowt Anchises. Furthermore
He 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 mee
Thy 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 cast
Her 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 trowde
To 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 were
Small graynes of cinder in that heape. I quight forgot to crave
Immediately, 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 bee
Full 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 eye
Discerne 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.