Poems Divine, and Humane :: :: University of Virginia Library

What time the noble Britaine did resist,
And vanquish Roman Cæsar with his hoast,
Who when he felt their fury did desist,
And fled from Albions white-wave-washed coast:
Where the stout Brittaines dy'd with Roman blood,
The Sea-greene face of the tumultuous flood.

There dwelt an antient honourable man,
Nere Sabrin's shore who was Cremillus hight,
In two faire twins his Off spring first began,
A son and daughter brought at once to light:
Whose beauties with their vertues vy'd in growth,
Which should most grace their infancy and youth.

His son Cherillus, but his fairer daughter,
He nam'd Pandora, did you never view,
The liquid Christall of a running water,
Streame through some guilded field, where all things new,

The spring had made, to such a place this Maid
Vnhappily (now growne a great one) strai'd.

And while her eyes on the moyst Element
Did cast their beames, another shape she spy'd,
Far above hers, on whom such lives were spent,
In Troy, for whom so many Hero's dy'd:
This shape the fairest sure, that er'e was showne,
Was but a meere reflexion of her owne.

While thus she gaz'd on her owne shade, she thought,
Oh that I might leape in, and seaze yon prize!
It were by death an easie purchase bought,
For who would live, if not in yonder eyes?
Narcissus so himselfe himselfe forsooke,
And dy'd to see his shadow in a brooke.

As yet the toy we call a Looking-glasse,
Wherein our finer Dames behold their faces,
Did rest unknown, else t'had not come to passe,
That this bright Maid repleat with all the graces,
Had in an Extasie thus stood amaz'd,
While onely on her lively selfe she gaz'd.

Still as she lookt, she wisht some gentle fish
Might now as once Arion it did, beare
Her on the friendly waves, but oh her wish
Could not implore an ayde from any there.
For they stood wondring that the earth could show
A brighter Nymph then Neptune could below.

One while she was resolv'd t'assay the water,
And so salute the thing she thought alive:
But then she poiz'd the danger that came after,
Lest she perhaps might never more survive:
Thus betweene joy and feare amaz'd she stood,
Viewing the wonders of the silver flood.

And as it chanc't to shade her from the Sun,
Vnto her brighter face she rai'd her hand,
She thought her shade did beckon her to come
To Thetis Arbor, and forsake the Land:
Who had done so, had not a neighbouring brier,
Seiz'd her lov'd coat, and made her so retire.

Injurious weed (quoth she) why hast thou staid
Me from a happinesse I might have had?
Receive the just curse of a spotlesse Maid,
Mayst thou be henceforth held a thing so bad,
So rough, that all may hate thee: thus having sed,
It since remaines with prickles overspred.

By this, Cherillus, who had long time since
Follow'd sterne Mars, in the blacke field of wars,
Was home return'd from service of his Prince,
But wearing the true souldiers colours, scars:
And time, to doe him now the greater grace,
Had grafted well-set haires upon his face.

Who as he past along, and seeing her,
Whom he not knew, (such difference time had made)

He tooke her to be Cupids messenger,
To teach him after war the woing trade:
He leanes his hand upon his pomell straight,
And eas'd his courser of its noble waight.

Fairer then I can speake (thus he began)
Whose presence makes this place the Elisian fields,
Why hast thou robb'd all whitenesse from the Swan,
And stole that colour which the Corall yeilds?
Why from thy head flowes such a golden traine,
That thou alone art all thy Sexes staine?

Why doe those Snowye-balls thy breasts appeare,
Whiter then Læda; in her Virgin hew?
Why dost thou make a spring through all the yeare,
And by thy presence make the earth still new?
Why doe those stars thy eyes, exceed yon higher,
And Phœbus thence draw all his light and fire?

Why art thou all so exquisite, that art
Though joyn'd with nature to their height of skill,
Would draw some peice deform'd in every part,
Not worth description from the meanest quill,
If but compar'd with that rare forme of thine?
For thou canst be no lesse then all divine.

Daigne Goddesse, (for I know thou art no lesse)
T'immortalize me in thy heavenly love,
By thy blest grant thy Deity expresse,
So thou shalt make me happier then Iove:

Could make himselfe, when in a golden shower,
He pierc'd the roofe of his lov'd Danaes Tower.

Thus as he spake, he seiz'd her Lilly hand,
Which seem'd within his warming palme to melt,
But with its snowy touch he seem'd to stand,
As it had flames into his bosome delt:
Her modest face like the now drooping Rose,
Lookt toward earth from whence it first arose.

And have you never seene the tyred Hare,
Stand trembling at the Hunters hollow cry,
Chac't by the Dogges, could no where now repaire,
Where it conceiv'd not certainly to dye:
Even so Pandora trembles while she heares
His words, which moved nothing but her feares.

She feares the strangers heats, begot from lust,
And so might dare t'infringe her Virgins Zone,
And tis no small addition to mistrust,
To thinke how now they onely are alone.
At such a time foule Tarquin ravisht thee,
Faire Lucrece, backt by opportunitie.

Thou need'st not feare fond Girle a wanton flame,
Come live in him who is indeed no other,
Then the joint partener that with thee came,
From the rich wombe of thy all-vertuous mother:
Tis rare one spring should send forth various water
He's a chast son, and thou as chast a daughter.

Thus after many a pause, her panting spirit,
Which all this while lay secret and retir'd,
Gave leave, his eares should now her breath inherit,
Then which, Cherillus nothing more desir'd:
Twice she began, still from her purpose brake,
At last she op't her Corall lips, and spake.

Sir, you much injure others in the worth,
Which you'r misprizing judgement sets on me,
Since thousands more are every way set forth,
With richer beauties then you here can see.
Tis lesse then just, your Complement should raise
Me past the Centre of a common praise.

If this were true, Philorus had small cause,
To fly from what he wisheth to embrace,
For still his love finds some reserved clause,
(Perhaps some straines in my lesse comely face)
Or else perhaps suspition may move
His thoughts to run the jealous maze of love.

Be 't as it will, know Sir, that I have vow'd,
My faith shall still lay anchor in his heart,
Nor other love shall ever be allow'd,
To claime in me the meanest, smallest, part:
But onely my Philorus, to whose eyes
My panting heart doth offer sacrifice.

T'is not my aime to traine you in a hope,
That you may conquer what I ne're will yield:

My leave is free, and you may make your scope,
To win the honor of some other field:
My fort already summon'd, did accord,
To be the captive of another Lord.

Therefore if you are noble, as you seeme,
Surrender what you keepe so fast, my hand:
No better then a thiefe we him esteeme,
Who wrongfully keeps backe anothers Land:
The crime's augmented, when tis clearly knowne,
That what he doth detaine, is not his owne.

Looke how a guilty prisoner at the bar,
Is startled with the sentence of his death:
So poore Cherillus, or more fearfull far,
Shakes at the sound of her condemning breath:
Her voice astonish't valor deepe then,
Than hertofore an armed hoast of men.

Denyall from some other might admit,
At least the party power to reply;
But in this rare position of her wit,
All adverse contradictions seeme to dye.
For if Pandora once deny thee, know,
All negatives are bounded in her no.

He whose bold hand durst venter for a prize,
Against opposed Armies clad in steele,
Quakes like a coward, while her conquering eyes
Enforce his recreant courage backward reele.

Her powerfull lookes dart forth such awfull charmes,
As might subdue wars God, though in his armes.

Cupid, thy force is foild, not all thy might
Can make thy new-made Champion on to venture;
Or if he durst, her frowne in thy despight,
Would kill the yongster ere he once could enter:
There's not an arrow from thy bow doth flie,
Can pierce, if't bee not poynted with her eye.

Leave off thy dolorous way of pricking hearts,
Why dost thou put poore lovers to such paine?
Why dost thou spend thy stocke to purchase darts?
Hadst thou thy sight, thou'st nere doe so againe.
Were there a world of Cupids, by her eyes
Shee'd bring to every one a severall prize.

Cherillus thus by chast Pandora taught
Nobly desists, from what he durst not claime;
Nor did he now so much as owne a thought,
Of what before he made his greatest aime.
Onely in parting 'twas his chiefest blisse,
When words were uselesse, to obtaine a kisse.

Which modestly was granted, for the name
Of manners were infring'd, had she deny'd:
Hapless Philorus in the instant came
VVho swer'd to see another man divide
His joyes in her, who having this obtain'd
His thoughts possesse him he might more have gain'd.

VVherefore (the other being gon) he said,
Deluding Syren, Angell, but in show;
Thou hast in this thy flaming lust bet ai'd,
But in a hope that I should never know.
Yet see the Gods have justly fixt the time
That thy false lips gave seale unto thy crime.

As if thy leave were licenst to abuse
Thy friend, so he might satisfie thy lust:
Oh tell me, what delusions didst thou use
To worke him to the mischiefe; for he durst
Naked as well have hugd a Scorpion
As thee, hadst thou not train'd the traytor on.

Oh! who durst sacrilegiously steale
Ought from that heavenly temple of thy face,
Wert thou not privy, didst thou not reveale
How he might doe to rob thee of thy grace?
And yet me thinkes that face keepes still in store
Sufficient graces for a thousand more.

But oh it is too manifest! my eyes
Are able witnesses of the deceit,
And this yet more suspition satisfies,
How at my onset he made his retreat.
And tis the act of guilt to take its flight
When once it is discovered by our sight.

Accurst creator of thy lasting shame,
VVhy hath thy lust out-worne thy fleeting love?

Why dost thou willing wound my bleeding fame
And after all thy oathes a recreant prove?
Gape earth, receive this Candid devill in,
Lest she infect more angells with her sin.

Oh! hadst thou beene ambitious, to have tasted
Variety in pleasures then, oh then,
Thou mightst have studied how to have them lasted,
By yeelding up thy fame to severall men:
And nere have falsly vow'd thy faith to one,
Which impudence durst sweare was me alone.

Speake, Traytor to thy honour and thy friend,
What plaster canst thou make to heale this sore?
Or what excuse can on thy crime attend?
Oh see thy guilt now blushes more and more!
As if that sinne which thou wouldst faine denie,
Were printed there before my reading eye.

Wherefore I now will study to be free,
My thralled heart shall stand no longer bound,
The despis'd servant of thy faith and thee,
I leave neglected what with joy I found.
This fatall minute shall our loves dissever,
So false Pandora, here farewell for ever.

This said, Philorus from the Virgin flyes,
While she (poore heart) was drowned in the floud
Of teares, which like a sea sprung from her eyes,
And watred all the earth whereon she stood.

Who like poore stone-turn'd Niobe did stand,
A floating statue on the moving Land.

The neighbouring river mourn'd to heare her fate,
The blustring winds did chide the hollow trees,
While they consulting to participate
Her griefe, doe all their verdant garments leese.
The birds tell heaven, and heaven to shew its pitty.
Bid Philomela sing a mournfull Ditty.

A Poet then imploring of the Nine,
To lend him ayd her story to indite;
Melpomene said, no, this worke is mine,
But griefe denies me power how to write.
Thus she that can write buskin-deepe in blood,
Is drown'd with our Pandora in this flood.

Oh griefe, if ever mourning did become
Thy meager face, 'twas when Pandora wept;
She numbred up her sighes beyond all sum,
And sorrowes Court within her countenance kept.
She was compos'd of dolor, and in briefe,
The liveliest Emblem of the perfectst griefe.

Ah false Philorus, didst thou see those teares,
Which thy chast love poures forth in thy dislike;
The object would affright thy jealous feares,
And to thy heart an awfull reverence strike.
Earth never bore a subject of more ruth
Then this, who suffers onely for her truth.

VVhen the salt flood had drawne the fountaine dry,
That scarce another teare could find a vent,
Nor was there hope of any new supply,
Since all her moisture was consum'd and spent:
Sill to her griefe fresh matter she affords,
As then in teares, so now she weepes in words.

VVherefore (quoth she) blind Love didst thou enthrall
My faith so firmely to Philorus soule?
On if thou canst, my sealed pledge recall,
Since my Philorus thinkes Pandora foule.
Yet witnesse heaven, I am as pure as Aire,
Diana's not more chast, although more faire.

The congeal'd snow upon the Alpin Mountaine
Retaines as much of fier as my brest,
And in the coole spring of a Chrystall fountaine
As much desire, as in my heart doth rest.
Oh jealousie, why should Philorus thinke
The Candid paper blacker then the Inke?

VVhat sin (good Gods) have wretched I committed,
That you should thunder vengeance on my head?
Yet all my suffrings of my Love unpittied:
Blush Sol, at this unjustice hide thy head:
For if thou spie my wrongs, they would require
Thou should'st in their revenge scourge earth by fier.

VVhy nature did thy choicer hand create
Me to a forme by some stil'd excellent?

Since what was purpos'd to my best of fate
Prepostrously turnes to my detriment?
Oh who then me was ever more accurst,
VVhose seeming best is chang'd to reall worst?

Oh hadst thou cheated me of some one limbe,
Deform'd my face, or rob'd me of an eye,
I nere had beene thought guilty of a sin,
Nor given occasion to this jealousie.
Those that are foule still unsuspected go,
VVhile fair ones (though more chast) are not thought so.

Happy are you in whose creation
Banisht perfection was an absent stranger:
But think how much hath beauty of temptation,
And then you'l blesse the Gods you'r out of danger.
VVhere various flowers in the garden growse,
VVe passe the bramble, but plucke up the rose.

Yet grant that forme be thought a happinesse
VVhich doth against temptations batteries vie,
Beauty though it come off with good successe,
Is wounded straight by poysonous jealousie.
Thus like a Monster mischiefe doth pursue it,
And no endeavours can at all eschew it.

Now sorrowfull Pandora takes her way
Through the thick woods (which is a large procession)
No matter where; griefe cannot go astray,
Since she hath vow'd perpetuall progression

Till she may once more her Philorus spye,
Which but perform'd, it were a blisse to dye.

Death now were welcome, were Philorus pleas'd;
To dye ere that, were torture in the grave,
Lest angry he by jealousie diseas'd,
Should after death against her ashes rave,
Or let her ghost which hourely must come see him,
He fright with frownes, and so inforce it flee him.

Heere unfrequented, save with savage beasts,
She spends the tedious minutes of her age:
Her eyes upon the severall sights she feasts,
While sorrow triumphs in her equipage:
The greedy earth cast off her covering grasse,
To looke upon her as she by did passe.

The savage Tyger when it came her neare,
Stoop't to the splendor of her conquering eyes:
The tusked Bore that broke Adonis speare,
Croucht downe to her, whose mercy bid it rise:
Who then in duty gently to her came,
And hence it is that some have since beene tame.

The winged birds from heaven came downe in quires,
Each one by turne did sing his rounde-lay,
Whose aiery notes still up againe aspires,
Which being ended each bird flyes away,
To get new Songs: thus by their various layes,
Each steales a little sorrow from the dayes.

The now-growne gentle Satyres did invite
The wood-Nymphes to compose a measur'd dance,
Each thing affords some matter of delight,
As glad her downe-cast lookes they might advance.
The little Ermin can afford its skin,
From the cold Aire to wrap her hands therein.

The trees did gladly spread their open armes,
To shade her roses from the blowing wind,
And lapt their leaves so close, no scorching harmes
Could burne her lillies when Apollo shin'd.
The pittying Bezor when it heard her grone,
Lest she should faint, bites out his Cordiall stone.

By chance a pin her tender finger prickt,
At which there startled out a drop of blood,
The which as soone as from it she had lickt,
The trees wept balsam for her greater good.
Still as she sigh'd, the friendly Vnicorne
Offers that precious Antidote, his horne.

The hunger-bitten Lyon greedy came,
Thinking to seaze her body for a pray,
But when he saw her, straight was turned tame,
And at her feet for mercy prostrate lay.
While his dumbe reverence seem'd to tell the Maid,
He mourn'd to thinke how he made her afraid.

Thus like the Queene of earth she sate admir'd
By these, the senselesse subjects of the wood,

Onely the Monster-griefe had not retired,
But by its fury feasted on her blood.
VVhile thus to give these notice of her wrong,
She vents her sorrow in this following Song.

The Song.

My Philorus is unkind
How should I choose but grieve at that?
VVhat joy, what comfort can I have,
Save in a wisht-for, timelesse grave.
Since all my hopes are dead in him?
He can give ease to this my moan,
And but in him I can have none.

Pitty, pitty, gentle Love,
For griefe enough torments my heart.
VVhy shouldst thou pitty me since I
VVithout Philorus living dye?
There is no hope I may revive,
For jealous thoughts possesse his mind:
How should Philorus then be kind?

Answer heaven, is this just,
That he that loves should jealous be?
Is there union with the Gods
That place in mortall soules such oddes?

Mortality will curse the Fates.
Let all chast Lovers weep with me,
And in these streams drown jealousie.

Overcomming so the fiend
Love may knit our hearts in one;
Oh that the conquest now were won,
So were all my sorrowes done,
Which must else for aye abide;
Then might I injoy my love,
Whose neglect these passions move.

Otherwise if't be decreed
That griefe in love must end my life,
Let (gentle Gods) Philorus know
Though thought unchast, I am not so.
So when I sleep within my Vrne,
'Twill be my comfort to have dy'd,
Since his suspition's satisfi'd.

Some two yards hence a neighboring thicket grew,
Where languishing Philorus us'd to lye,
Who when he heard this Ditty, straightway knew,
Love-wrong'd Pandora did complaine thereby.
Wherefore once more to try her constant faith,
Disguis'd he enters to her, and thus saith.

Why daring mortall, art thou bold to presse
Nere these untroden kingdomes? in these Groves

Can savage creatures succor the distresse
Of whining Virgins for their absent Loves?
Can senseles earth tell how to ease thy griefe,
Or can the blustring winds blow thee reliefe?

Where canst thou house thy self, where wilt thou dwell?
When Hyems rageth, whence wilt thou get fire?
In all these woods I know, save my one Cell,
No place where thou distressed canst retire.
Canst thou eate grasse, or look'st thou to be fed
With beares for flesh, and rocks or stones for bread?

But love me fairest, and by strength of arme
From the wild creatures I will rend their pray,
By sacred spells of my inchanting charme
Ile force Pomona her sweet fruits to pay.
Ceres shall now study to make a birth
Of ripened corne in this untilled earth.

To gratifie this Love young Ganimede,
When leue's a sleepe shall steale a Iourny downe:
And at thy gorgeous table when 'tis spread,
Shall thy full cups with heavenly Nectar crowne.
Instead of Oakes round whom the Ivy twines,
Bacchus shall plant the Wine-begetting Vines.

Thou shalt drinke Lethe and forget thy love,
Since he so coldly meetes thy zealous fires,
What reason i'st thou shouldst so constant prove,
To him that sees, and yet slights thy desires?

Faire Maid unlocke thy lips, and let me know
Thy instant grant, for I'le admit no No,

First then (quoth she) let death dispatch a dart,
And ayme the fatall poynt against my breast,
Or else swell high my griefe and split my heart,
So shall my virgin ghost in quiet rest.
Ah my Philorus, wheresoere thou be,
This woe's begotten from thy jealousie.

Base man desist, or else what you stile faire,
Your foming lust shall hideously affright,
Ile hang my selfe within my flowing haire,
Ere thou shalt touch Philorus deare delight.
And after death my ghost shall racke thy sense,
Ther's no worse plague then guilt of conscience.

At this he backward mov'd his gentle pace,
And scarce his manly eyes from teares forbeare,
His sorrow now was written in his face,
The which he hid least she might read it there.
His heart now melts to see the mourning Maid,
While thus unto himselfe be softly said.

Heavens milkie way may sooner be prophan'd
By spurious feet, the Phœnix though but one
Be found no virgin, and what ere is nam'd,
Sacred, may suffer prophanation,
The Sun forget his way into the West,
And drive his teame into the North to rest.

The Swan may change his whitenesse with the Crow,
Diana be a common prostitute;
And dirt may weare a whiter face then snow,
Vesta may Vestas Temple now pollute.
Proposterous Nature may bring forth a birth
Of fishes swimming in the solid earth.

Fier and water may embrace each other,
And then united both make up one flame.
And Iove may change his Thron with his black brother,
The Furies may obtaine a milder name.
The Wolfe and Lamb may from the selfe-same dug
Draw milke, and then each other friendly hug:

The generous Lion may exchange his heart,
For the weake courage or the timorous Hare,
The fixed starres may from their stations part,
And false-hood upon earth may become rare.
What ere is cald impossible, may spring
To be as copious as the commonst thing.

Chastities selfe may yeeld to strong temptation,
Ice may be tickled with a wanton heate,
The Ethiop changed to a milke white Nation,
And Manna may become the damneds meate:
Ere my Pandora can give up her name
To be the common place of publike shame.

Of all Affections that are plac't in man.
'Tis jealousie that makes him most accurst:

That makes a Raven of the snowye Swan,
And what is simply pure, that faineth worst.
Hence loath'd suspition thou no more shalt find,
An easie welcome to my credulous mind.

For if Pandora should decline from good,
And intertaine one single thought of sin,
Should the least warmth dissolve her frozen blood,
Or in one breath should she draw poyson in,
Heavens finding spots in this rich pearle of theirs,
Would give me notice of it by their teares.

The glorious Sun who heretofore was proud
In his swift course, to stand and gaze upon her,
Would frowne, and wrap his beauty in a cloud,
To give me notice of her great dishonor.
Her crime though private, cannot scape my sence,
Since heaven must needs give me intelligence.

With that he turning to her (faire quoth he,)
Could you forgive Philorus jealousie,
Did he repent? while straight replyed she,
Else let me heaven without thy mercy die.
Loe then his perfect shape I here discover,
Who now growes proud of such a constant Lover.

Blest Heaven! in what an amorous twine they twist,
As if both bodies were compact in one:
And while she wept, joyfull Philorus kist
The chastest lips that ere creation

Could boast: else all these stormes had driven
Her faith from him as farre, as hell from heaven.

When love and wonder gave them leave to speake,
Each did rety their soules to th' others breast,
Which knot suspition shall want power to breake,
Since he doth now his former thoughts detest.
Now joy lends wings while both together flie
And tell her father all this historie.

Which having heard, he payes heavens thanks in tears,
That had restor'd the jewell which he lost,
And now acquited all those dismall feares,
Which had so many weeping minutes lost.
Blushing Cherillus now salutes his sister,
And thanks the Gods that he unknown had mist her.

All sorrow now is wip't from every eye,
Ther's not a face that weares a mournfull looke.
Laughter triumphs, while meager griefe doth dye,
As it fate had display'd some jocund booke,
VVhich the by-standers reading, joy to see
How there their joy's writ for eternitie.

Her father now unites, their equall fires,
Since Hymen spite of Fate did so command.

All union liv'd in their conjoynt desires,
Each soule lay pawnd in to'thers plighted hand,
Where they rest happy; thus those Loves doe thrive,
VVhom Chastity through stormes still keepes alive.

FINIS.