University of Virginia Library

Truth sayes of old, and we must owe that truth
Vnto tradition, when the world in youth,
Wch was the goldēage, brought forth the pen,
Love and the Muses, which since gave to men
Inheritance of Fame, for these began
At once, and were all coëtanean.
A happy season, when the ayre was cleare;
No sicknesse, nor infection did appeare,
No sullen change of seasons did molest
The fruitfull soyle, but the whole yeare was blest
With a perpetuall Spring, no Winter storme
Did crispe the Hills, nor mildew blast the Corne:
Yet happier farre, in that it forth did bring
The subject of this verse, whereof I sing
Vnder the Zenith of Heavens milke-white way,
Is a faire country called Lusinia,
'Tis Natures chiefest Wardrop, where doe lye
Her ornaments of rich variety:
Where first her glorious Mantle she puts on,
When through the world she rides procession;
Here dwelt a King and Queene of mighty power,
Iudg'd for their vertues, worthy such a dower.
They had betwixt themselves three Daughters born,
Conspicuous for their comlinesse and forme.
The elder two did neither much excell,
But then the younger had no parallel;
Whose lovely cheekes with Heavenly luster shone,
And eyes were farre too bright to looke upon:
Nay, it is credible, though fancies wing
Should mount above the Orbes, and thence downe bring
Th' Elixar of all beauty, and dispence
Vnto one creature, the whole influence,
And harmony of the Speares, it might not dare
VVith her for face and feature, to compare
Zeuxis the painter, who to draw one peece,
Survay'd the choycest Virgins of all Greece,
Had rested here, his Art without this stir,
Might have beene bounded, and confin'd in her.
Looke how the spiced fields in Autumne smell,
And rich perfumes, that in Arabia dwell:
Such was her fragrant sweetnesse, the Sunnes Bird,
The Phænix fled farre off, and was afeard
To be seene neere, least she his pride should quell,
Or make him seeme a common spectacle.
Nor did the painted Peacocke once presume,
Within her presence to display his plume.
Nor Rose, nor Lilly durst their Silkes unfold,
But shut their leaves up like the Marygold.
They all had beene ill favour'd, she alone
Was judg'd the Mistresse of perfection.
Her fame spread farre abroad, and thither brought
Thousands, that gazing worshipt her, and thought
The Goddesse, whom the greene-fac'd Sea had bred,
And dew of foaming waves had nourished.
Venus her selfe, regardlesse of her honour,
Did live with mortals, whosoe'r lookt on her,
Even most prophane, did think she was divine,
And grudg'd not to doe worship to her shrine.
For this cause, Venus Temples were defac'd,
Her sacrifice, and Ceremonies rac'd;
Her widdowed Altars in cold ashes mourn'd,
Her Images uncrown'd, her Groves deform'd:
Her Rites were all polluted with contempt,
For none to Paphos, nor Cytheros went.
This Maide was sole ador'd, Venus displeas'd,
Might in this Virgin onely be appeas'd:
The people in the street to her would bow,
And as she past along, would Garlands strow.
Venus at this conceiv'd a jealous ire,
(For heavenly minds burne with an earthly fire)
And spake with indignation, what shall I,
Mother of Elements, and loftiest skie,
Beginner of the world, Parent of Nature,
Pertake mine honour with an earthly creature?
Shall silly girles destin'd to death, and Fate,
My high-borne name, and stile contaminate?
In vaine did then the Phrygian Shepheard give
The Ball to me, when three of us did strive
Who should excel in beauty, and all stood
Naked before the Boy, to tempt his blood,
When they with Royall gifts sought to beguile
His judgement, I alur'd him with a smile:
But this usurper of my dignities,
Shall have but little cause to boast the prize;
With that she call'd her rash, and winged child
Arm'd with Bow, Torch, and quiver: that is wild
With mischiefe; he that with his evil waies
Corrupts all publick discipline, and straies
Through chambers in the night, & with false beames,
Or with his stinging Arrowes, or with dreames,
Tempts unto lust, and does no good at all:
This childe I say did Venus to her call,
And stirres him up with words malitious,
That was by nature too licentious:
For bringing him where Psyche dwelt, for so
This Maid was call'd, she there unfolds her woe,
And emulous tale. Cupid quoth she, my stay,
My onely strength, & power, whose boundles sway,
Contemnes the thunder of my Father Iove,
I here intreate thee by thy Mothers love,
Those wounding sweets, and sweet wounds of thy Quiver,
And honey burnings of thy torch, deliver
My Soule from griefe, revenge me on this mayd
And all her boasted beauty see decay'd,
Or else strike her in love with one so poore,
So miserably lost, stript of all store
Of meanes, or vertue; so deform'd of limb,
That none in all the world may equall him.
To move her Sonne, no flattering words she spar'd,
But breath'd on him with kisses, long and hard,
This done; she hasts to the next ebbing shore,
And with her rosie feet insulting ore
The submisse waves, a Dolphin she bestrides,
And on the utmost Billows proudly rides.
A troupe of Tritons were straight sounding heard,
And rough Portumnus with his mossy beard,
Salacia heavy with her fishy traine,
And Nereus daughters came to entertaine
The Sea-borne Goddesse; some plaid on a shell,
Some with their Garments labour'd to expell
The scorching heat, and Sun-shine from her face,
And other some did hold a looking-glasse:
All these in triumph by the Dolphin swam,
And followed Venus to the Ocean;
Phyche the while, in this great height of blisse,
Yet reapes no fruit of all her happinesse,
For neither King, nor Prince, nor Potentate,
Nor any durst attempt her for a mate,
But as a polisht picture her admire,
And in that admiration cease desire:
Her Sisters both, whose moderate beauty none
Did much despise, nor much contemplate on,
VVere to their wishes happily contracted,
And by two Kings espous'd. Psyche distracted
Because she had no lover, pensive sate
In mind, and body, and began to hate,
And curse that beauty, and esteeme at nought,
Which, but was excellent, had no other fault.
Cupid now in a causelesse rage was gone,
To whet his Arrowes on a bloody stone,
As if he were t'encounter with some maine
Monster, like Python, by Apollo slaine,
Or Iove, or Titan lame; or once agen,
Draw the pale Moone downe to the Latmian Den,
Or with Loves fire great Pluto to annoy,
For these were workes of labour, and the Boy
Was ignorant, how matters would succeed,
Or what the fate of Beauty had Decreed.
Therefore he fyl'd his arrowes sharpe and smal,
To pierce what ever they should meet withal.
And vow'd, if cause were, he his shafts would shiver,
'Gainst Psyches breast, and empty all his Quiver.
Themis a Goddesse, whom great Iove had sent
Into the World, for good, or punishment,
As justice should require, when she did heare
Cupid so proudly boast, againe did sweare,
That she his haughty malice would abate,
And turne the edge, both of his shafts, and hate.
And having thus disarm'd him, ten to one,
VVould change his fury to affection.
A clap of Thunder all about them shooke,
To ratifie, what Themis undertooke.
Then both together went, and entring found,
Faire Psyche, with her looks fixt on the ground.
Honor and Modesty, with equall grace,
Simplicity and truth, smil'd in her face.
But rising up, there shot from eyther eye,
Such beames, as did Loves senses stupefie.
And as in this distraction he did stand,
He let his arrowes fall out of his hand.
VVhich Themis laughing tooke, and thence conuay'd,
VVhilst Cupid minded nothing but the Mayde.
Then did he crye amaz'd, what fence is here?
Beauty and Vertue have no other spheare.
Her brow's a Castle, and each lip a Fort,
Where thousand armed Deities resort
To guard the golden fruit from all surprize,
Chastly, and safe, as the Hesperides.
Pardon me, Venus, if I thee abridge
Of this unjust revenge; 'twere sacrilidge,
Beyond Prometheus theft, to quench such fire,
Or steale it from her eyes, but to inspire
Cupids owne breast, in all Loves spoyles, I yet
Never beheld so rich a Cabinet.
Iove, here for ever, here, my heart confine,
And let me all my Empery resigne.
Then looking downe, he found himselfe bereft
Of his loose armes, and smil'd at Themis theft;
Because he knew, she might as soone abide
Fire in her bosome, as Loves arrows hide.
But that they must againe with shame be sent,
And claime, for the possession, a deare rent:
Yet one dropt out by chance, and 'twas the best
Of all the bundle, and the curiousest.
The plumes were colour'd azure, white, and red,
The shaft painted alike downe to the head,
Which was of burnisht Gold: this Cupid tooke,
And in revenge, through his owne bosome strooke:
Then sighing call'd, You Lovers all, in chiefe)
Whom I have wrong'd, come tryumph at my griefe;
See, and be satisfied for all my sinne,
'Tis not one place that I am pained in,
My Arrows venome is dispersed round,
And beauties signe is potent in each wound.
Thus he with pitty did himselfe deplore,
For never pitty enter'd him before.
Ill as he was, he tooke his flight, and came
Vnto the palace of the Sun, whose flame
VVas farre inferiour to what Cupid felt;
And said, deare Phœbus, if I still have dealt
Like a true friend, and stood thee in some steed,
VVhen thou for love didst like a shepheard feed,
Admetus Cattle, now thine helpe impart,
Tis not for Phisicke, though I am sick at heart,
That I implore, but through thy skill devine
The fairest Psyche for my wife assigne:
Phœbus assents, and did not long delay,
To make it good by a Prophetick way;
Her Father fearing for the injury,
Offerd to Venus sacred Deity,
Consults the Delpick Oracle, who thus
Expounds his mind in tearmes ambiguous.

The Oracle.

Your Daughter bring to a steepe mountaine spire,
Invested with a funerall attire;
Expect no good, but bind her to a stake,
No mortall wight, her for a wife shall take:
But a huge venomn'd Serpent, that does fly
With speckled wings, above the starry sky.
And downe againe, does the whole Earth molest
With fire, and sword, and all kind of unrest,
So great in malice, and so strong in might,
That Heaven, and hell doe tremble at his flight.

The King affrighted what this speech should weene
Goes slow, and sadly home unto his Queene,
Both ponder in their mind the strange prediction,
VVhether it were a riddle, or a fiction:
What glosse it might endure, and what pretence,
Whither a verball, or a mistick sence;
Which cast about in vaine, they both bewaile
Their Daughters chance, but griefe can not prevaile,
But that she must fulfill the Delpicke doome,
Or worser plagues are threatned in the roome:
And now the pitchy torches lighted are,
And for her fatall Marriage they prepare,
Songs are to howlings turn'd, bright fire to fume,
And pleasant musicke to the Lydian tune:
For Hymens Saffron weed, that should adorne
Young blushing Brides, Psyche is forc'd to mourne,
And for her mourning a blacke mantle weares,
With which she gently wipes away her teares.
Thus all the City waite her in sad wise,
Not to her wedding, but her obsequies;
But whilst her parents weake excuses make,
And vaine delaies, thus Psyche them bespake?
Why doe you thus with deepe fetch't sighs perplex
Your most unhappy age? why doe you vexe
Your spirit, which is mine, and thus disgrace
With fruitlesse teares, your venerable face?
Why doe you teare your haire, and bear your brest?
Are these the hopefull issues, and the blest
Rewards for beauty? then ought you lament,
When all the City with a joyn'd consent
Did stile me the new Venus, and ascrib'd
Those honours which to mortals are deny'd.
'Twas your ambition first pluckt on my shame,
I see, and feele my ruine in her name:
'Tis now to late, we suffer under those
Deepe wounds of envy, which the Gods impose;
Where is the rocke? why doe you linger so?
Leade hence, my thinks I long to undergoe
This happy Marriage, and I long to see
My noble Husband, whatsoere he bee:
Into his armes, ô let me soone be hurl'd,
That's borne for the destruction of the world.
This said, each stander by, with hang'd downe head
And mournfull pompe the Virgin followed,
And to the place prefixt her armes they tye,
Then howling forth a dolefull Elegy,
Depart from her in teares, wishing from farre
Some winged Perseus might deliver her.
Psyche affrighted thus, and they all gone,
A gentle gale of wind came posting on,
Who with his whispers having charm'd her feares,
The maid asleep on his soft bosome beares.
This wind is called Zephirus, whose mild
And fruitfull breath gets the young spring with child,
Filling her wombe with such delicious heat,
As breeds the blooming Rose, and Violet:
Him Cupid for his delicacy chose,
And did this amorous taske on him impose,
To fetch his Mistresse; but least he should burne
With beauties fire, he bad him soone returne:
But all in vaine, for promises are fraile,
And vertue flyes, when love once blowes the sayle,
For as she slept, he lingred on his way,
And oft embrac'd, and kist her as his praye,
And gaz'd to see how farre she did surpasse
Erichthens Daughter, wife to Boreas,
Faire Orythia; and as she began
To waxe hot through his motion, he would fan
And coole her with his wings, which did disperse
A perfum'd sent, through all the vniverse;
For 'fore that time, no fragrant smell did live
In any thing, till Psyche did it give:
Hearbes, Gummes, and spices had perhaps a name,
But their first odours from her breathing came:
And in this manner Zephirus flew on
With wanton gyres, through every region
Of the vast ayre, then brought her to a vale,
Where thousand severall flowers her sweets exhale:
The whilst her parents rob'd of her deare sight,
Devote themselves to everlasting night.