University of Virginia Library

Chorus

This Argos towne if any God be founde,
And Pisey boures that famous yet remayn,
Or kingdomes els to loue of Corinthes ground,
The double hauens, or sundred seas in twayne
If any loue of Taygetus his snowes,
(By VVinter which when they on hils be cast:
By Boreas blastes that from Sarmatia blowes,
VVith yerely breath the sommer meltes as fast)
VVhere clere Alphéus runnes with floude so cold,
By playes wel knowen that there Olimpiks hight;
Let pleasaunt powre of his from hense withholde
Such turnes of stryfe that here they may not light:
Nor nephew worse then grandsier spring from vs,
Or direr deedes delyght the yonger age.
Let wicked stocke of thirsty Tantalus
At length leaue of, and wery be of rage.
Enoughe is done, and naught preuaild the iust,
Or wrong: betrayed is Mirtilus and drownde,
That did betray his dame, and with like trust
Borne as he bare, himselfe hath made renound
VVith chaunged name the sea: and better knowne
To mariners therof no fable is.
On wicked sword the litle infant throwne
As ran the chide to take his fathers kisse.
Vnrype for thaulters offring fell downe deade:
And with thy hand (O Tantalus) was rent,
VVith such a meate for Gods thy boordes to spread.
Eternall famine for such foode is sent,
And thyrst: nor for those daynty meats vnmilde,
Might meeter payne appoynted euer bee
Vith empty throate standes Tantalus begylde,
Aboue thy wicked head their leanes to thee,
Then Phineys fowles in flight a swifter pray.
VVith burned bowes declynd on euery syde,
And of his fruites all bent to beare the sway,
The tree deludes the gapes of hunger wyde
Though hee full greedy feede theron would fayne.
So oft deceyu'de neglectes to touch them yet:
He turnes his eyes, his iawes he doth refrayne,
And famine fixt in closed gummes doth shet.
But then each braunch his plenteous ritches all,
Lets lower downe, and apples from an hie
VVith lither leaues they flatter like to fall
And famine styrre:in vayne that bids to trye
His handes: which when he hath rought forth anone
To be beguyld, in higher ayre againe
The haruest hanges and fickle fruite is gone,
Then thirst him greeues no lesse then hungers payne:
Wherwith when kindled is his boyling bloud
Lyke fyre, the wretch the waues to him doth call,
That meete his mouth: which straight the fleeyng floud
VVithdrawes, and from the dryed foorde doth fall:
And him forsakes that followes them. He drinkes
The dust so deepe of gulfe that from him shrinkes.