All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet Being Sixty and three in Number. Collected into one Volume by the Author [i.e. John Taylor]: With sundry new Additions, corrected, reuised, and newly Imprinted |
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| Certaine Sonnets made in the forme of Æquiuoques; on the destruction of Troy. |
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 | All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet |  |
Certaine Sonnets made in the forme of Æquiuoques; on the destruction of Troy.
[VVhen Hellen was for Priams sonne a mate]
VVhen Hellen was for Priams sonne a mate,From Greece bereft by Paris & his Band:
Which caus'd the Greekes, the Troian minds amate,
Som curs'd the boy; and other some they band:
The strum pet Queene which brought the burning brand,
That Illion fir'd, & wrack'd old Priams Race:
And on their Names long liuing shame did brand,
(For head-strong lust runnes an vnbounded Race.)
This beauteous peece, whose feature radiant blaze,
Made Menelaus horne-mad warre to wage:
And set all Troy in a combustious blaze,
Whose ten yeeres triumphs scarce was worth their wage,
For all their conquests, and their battring Rams,
Their leaders most return'd, with heads like Rams.
To the Right Honourable, the Lord Viscount Grandison.
Anagramma. Harts Ioyne in loue.
Thy loyall seruice to thy King, doth proue,That to thy Countrey, thy Hart Ioyns in loue.
[VVith raging madnesse and with fury fell]
VVith raging madnesse and with fury fell,Great Diomed, and Aiax 'eft their Tents,
And in the throat of death, to blowes they fell,
To make more worke for plaisters, and for tents.
With blood imbruing all the Phrygian Clime,
Whilst men like Autumne leaues drop dying downe:
Where som th'row blood, & woūds to honor clime,
And some their mangled lims bestrows the downe:
Whilst Paris with his Hellen in his Armes
Imbraces her about the wastfull wast:
Saw many a Gallant Knight in burnisht Armes,
Who from their Tents made haste to make more waste:
Who to their Tents did ne'r returne again.
Thus warres makes gaine a losse, and losse a gaine.
[Had Priams Queene in Cradle slaine her Sonne]
Had Priams Queene in Cradle slaine her Sonne,The lustfull Paris (haplesse boy) I meane:
Then Illions Towers might still haue brau'd the Sun:
His death to saue their liues had beene the meane.
Vnlucky lucke, when Iuno, Venus, Pallas
Did craue his censure vpon Ida Mount:
Whence sprung the cause that Troy & Priams Palace
Were burnt, which erst the skyes did seem to moūt.
Had he been drown'd or strangled with a cord,
He had not rob'd Oenon of her heart:
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With him, to head her husband like a Hart.
But Troy, it is thy fate, this knaue and Baggage
Confounds thy state, and fire thy bag & baggage.
[Troyes fruitfull Queene did many children beare]
Troyes fruitfull Queene did many children beare,So braue, heroicke, and so stout a Crue:
Who all in noble actions did accrue,
When age had made their Parents bald and bare,
They made their daintlesse courage to appeare,
Amidst the throngs of danger and debate:
Where wars remorselesse stroke kil'd many a Peer,
Whil'st swords, not words, their coūsels did debate:
But bloud on bloud, their fury could not sate,
For fierce Achilles did braue Hector gore:
To guerdon which, the Grecian in his gore,
Did wallow, whilest the Troians laughing sate.
Thus did Achilles bid the world adiew
For Hectors death, Reuenge did claime a due.
[Ten wearie yeers these bloudy broyles did last]
Ten wearie yeers these bloudy broyles did last,Vntill the Greeks had form'd a woodden Steed:
Which they on Priam would bestow at last,
(When force preuailes not, falshood stands in stead.)
False Sinon (who so well could forge a lye,
Whose traitrous eyes shed many a trech'rous teare)
Knew well that in the horses wombe did lye,
The wolues that Troy did all in pieces teare.
Polyxena, Achilles deare-bought deare,
Was hew'd in gobbets on her louers graue,
King, Queene, and Troy, for Hellen paid too deare,
All felt the Grecian rage, both young and graue.
To Kings and Commons, death's alike, all one,
Except Æneas, who escap'd alone.
[Lo thus the burden of Adultrous guilt]
Lo thus the burden of Adultrous guilt,I showring vengeance, Troy and Troianes saw:
No age, no sexe, no beauty, Gold or guilt,
Withstood foretold Cassandraes sacred saw.
She often said false Hellens beautious blast
Should be the cause the mighty Grecian pow'r,
Their names, and fames, with infamy should blast,
And how the gods on thē would vengeance powre.
But poore Cassandra prophesied in vaine,
She clam'rous cries (as 'twere) to sencelesse Rocks.
The youths of Troy, in merry scornefull veine,
Securelesse slept, whil'st lust the cradle rocks:
Till bloudy burning Indignation came,
And all their mirth with mourning ouercame.
| All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet | |