 | Parthenophil and Parthenophe |  |
ELEGIE XIII.
Swift Atalanta (when she lost the priseBy gathering golden apples in her race)
Shewes how by th' apples of thine heauenly eyes,
(Which fortune did before my passage place
When for mine hartes contentement I did runne)
How I was hindred, and my wager lost:
When others did the wagers worth surprise
I vew'de thine eyes, thus eyes vew'de to my cost,
Nor could I them enioy when all was donne,
But seeming (as they did) bright as the Sunne,
My course I stayd, to vewe their fierie grace,
Whose sweet possession I could not comprise:
Th' Idæan shepheard (when the strife begunne
Amongst three goddesses) as Iudge decreede,
The golden apple Venus did awarde,
Cause of the wast, and downefall of proud Troye;
But when the graces had a sweet regard
How fayre Parthenophe did her exceede,
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One so much fayrer farre, as to much coye,
Parthenophe the chose in Venus fleede,
And since her bewtie Venus did out goe
Two golden apples were to her assigned:
Which apples all th' outrageous tumultes breede
That are hep'd vp in my distressed minde.
Whose figure in enflamed Troye I finde,
The cheefe occasion of mine endlesse woe.
| Parthenophil and Parthenophe | |