University of Virginia Library

The .xvij. Epistle.

Sappho to Phaon

Where when thou sawste at first
my louing lines with eye,
Thou knowledge hadst frō whence they came
and notice by and by?
Where if thou hadst herein
not red the Authors name
And Sappho seene, thou hadst not knowne
from whome this writing came?
Demaunde thou wilt perhaps
what me procurde to write
This kinde of verse, that mirrie tunes
and Luting doe delight?
For that this loue of mine
is doolefull and the verse
Elegia callde a wofull kinde
of myter to reherse.
No Cythron serues a mourning minde
whome cruell cares doe pierse.
As straw doth kindle soone,
when Eurus ginnes to driue
The flash into the fertill fieldes:
euen so I frie aliue.
To Ætna Phaon nowe
hath tane his way in hast:
And me poore wench as great a fire
as Ætnas flame doth wast.
I can not frame my frets,
my stubburne strings doe iarre:
For why, in deede of quiet minds
such verses tokens arre.
Pyrino is forgot,
ne Dryads doe delite
My fancie: Lesbian Lasses eke
are now forgotten quite.
Not Amython I force,
nor Cydno passing fine:
Nor Atthis, as she did of yore,
allures these eyes of mine.
Ne yet a hundreth mo
whom (shame ylayd aside)
I fancide erste: thou all that loue
from them to thee hast wride.
In thee doth feature flowe,
thy yeares for daliance apt:
Thy face, O face t'is thou that hast
my shaken senses rapt.
A Quiuer and a Lute
take thou in hande, and thee
Apollo men will deeme: d'on hornes
and Bacchus thou shalt bee.
And Phœbus Daphne looude,
king Mynos darling deare
God Bacchus lykte, yet neyther of both
a Cytherons string could steare.
But me Pegasian Nymphes
haue learned on the Lute,
And throughout all the world is borne
of Sapphos songes the brute.
Nor Alcæus (though vpon
a statelier string doe sounde
My mate for Art, and countrie eke)
a greater prayse hath founde.
Though I at natures hand
no featurde face could gaine:
Yet those defaults of kinde I quite
by goodnesse of the braine.
Disdaine me not, although
but meane my stature bee:
And in pronouncing verie short
you Sapphos name doe see.
Put case I be not faire?
swarth Andromed to vewe,
Duke Perseus pleasde: Morisco soyle
allowde hir tawnie hewe.
Full oft the whitest Doues
with specled Culuers tred:
And oft we see the Turtle browne
with Popingay doth wed.
If none, vnlesse hir forme
could match thy featurde shape,
Should lincke with thee: thou doubtlesse shouldst
from mariage aye escape.
But when thou vewdste my verse,
then Sappho seemde in sight
A comely wench, thou swarste that me
alone became to wright.
I sang, I minde it well,
(for Louers fixe in breast
Forepassed toyes, and thou the whilste
to kissing thee addreast.
Those busses likte thee eke,
for euery point I was
Befancide well: but most when we
to Venus prancks did passe.
Then did my wanton tricks
and loftie mounting, more
With sucred wordes, delight thy minde
(my Phaon) than of yore.
And that when both our ioyes
confounded were, I lay
With wearie limmes, and languor lame
and had no worde to say.
Now are Sicilian trulles
thy nouell pray, I see:
In Lesbos what make I? a wench
of Sicill I will bee.
O Nysian Matrons, O
Sicilian Dames I say,
This loytring guest of ours expell
your Countrie boundes I pray.
Ne let his glosing tongue
your listning eares beguile:
For why to vs he hath ere this
yvsde that selfe same stile.
And Ladie Venus, thou
that knowen art to dwell
(Rue on thy Poets piteous plight)
among the Sicans fell.
Will aye this cruell chaunce
in one selfe tenour roonne?
And still persist in spitefull sorte
as when hir race begoonne?
For but a Babe in yeares,
and lacking three of nine,
My parents bones I gathered vp
and bathde with saltish brine.
My needefull brother burnt
with beastly strumpets flame:
And did endure both wrack of wealth
and spitefull losse of fame.
To beggrie brought he plies
the slyding seas with Ore:
And gettes againe with shamefull shifts
the wealth he spent before.
And me for sounde aduise
pursues with deadly hate;
This was the onely good to me
that my free speaking gate.
And eake, as though I lackt
a cause to breede my dole,
My little daughter heapes vp hoe,
that prettie pratling soule.
But last of all, thou art
the forger of my bale:
Aye me poore wench, my beaten Barcke
flits not with pleasant gale.
Marke out of order how
my lolling tresses flee:
No glistring Gem, or Iuell is
upon my hand to see.
My vesture is but vile,
not spanged is my top:
My hanging heare with Ciuet, nor
Arabian dew doth drop.
For whome (vnhappie Girle)
should Sappho go so gay?
Whome seeke to please? the Author of
my brauerie is away.
My gentle yeelding breast
eche lightsome dart may broose:
And aye I finde a cause to loue,
and can none other choose.
Or else at time of birth
the sisters set this lawe:
Allowing mee such cruell twist
that did my destny drawe:
Or custome growes to kinde,
and vse becommes an Arte:
I wote not well, but sure I haue,
by kinde a gentle hart.
What woonder, if with such
a beardlesse youth I were
Attacht, whose tender childish yeares
allowde his chinne no heare?
I drad (Aurora) least
for Cephalus thou would
Ychosen him: saue that thy for-
mer rape doth thee withhold.
If Phœbe vewe him once,
that all suruayes with eye:
My Phaon shall be quickly forste
in slumber long to lye.
In Iuorie Wagon would
dame Venus, to the starres
Borne him: but that she fearde he would
haue coyde the God of Warres.
O thou that neyther art
a boy, nor man in sight,
But aptest age: of all thy race
the most excellent wight,
Come hither, come, and to
my bosome make retowre:
No loue I craue in fayth of thee,
but thee to loue the powre.
I write and from my cheekes
the deawie teares distill:
Beholde how many blots they cause
in Sapphos doolefull bill.
If needes thou wouldest haue gone,
yet this allow for true:
Thou mightst haue sayde at parture, O
my Lesbian Lasse adue.
But now no teares of mine
ne latter kisse thou had:
Ne (to be short) of such mishaps
as are befall, I drad.
With mee is nought of thine,
saue wrong yleft in deede:
Ne gaue I warning that thou hadst
of faythfull loue the meede.
I gaue thee no preceps,
nor would haue done a iot:
But made a sute that Sappho might
at no time beene forgot.
By loue, that neuer farre
may from thy breast astart:
And sacred sisters nine (my saincts)
whome I embrace with heart,
I sweare: when one exclamde
(I wote nere who to mee)
And saide now Sappho iogges thy ioy,
thy Phaon now doth flee:
I had no teares to shed,
my lippes did language lacke,
Mine eyes did want theyr gushing teares
my foltring tongue it stacke
Unto the roufe, and ysie colde
my fearefull breast did racke.
When griefe was somewhat swagde,
and sorrow gan to slake:
I howlde with toren locks, and with
my fist my bodie strake:
As doth the louing Dame
that to the Temple beares
Hir Babe his corps withouten sense
and bathes his Tombe with teares.
Charaxe my brother ioyde,
and often past before
My face and to and fro did iet
to make my doole the more.
And to encrease my shame,
would wit my cause of wo:
And say, why weepes this woman? why?
hir daughter liues I trowe.
Oh, shame and earnest loue
can neuer well agree:
How there with open breast I stoode
the Uulgar folke did see.
Thou Phaon art my carke,
my dreames reduce to minde
Thy countnance: dreames which clearer than
the shining Sunne I finde.
I meete thee oft in sleepe,
though thou be nothing nie,
But of this sleepe the slipper ioyes
to soone away doe slie.
Full oft vpon thine armes
my lodging neck I lay:
And then me thinks thy head as much
my limber armes doe stay.
I know thy kisses well.
and am not now to seeke
How thou were woont to smack thy wench,
and she to doe the leeke.
I play the wanton Gyrle
sometime, and seeme with thee
To chat, and think my slumbring sense
awaked wide to bee.
I blush to tell the rest
that followes, but there is
Naught left vndone that breedes delight,
I could not Phaon misse.
But when that Titan splayes
his face, and all beside:
I make complaint that winged sleepe
so soone away did slide.
To Groues and Caue I truge,
as though they did me good:
The Caue and groues that witnesse there
in place of pleasure stood.
Inragde I thither runne,
as doth the frantike fro
Whome fell Erichtho hath in chase,
my locks at random go.
There plainely I discrie
with rotten Tothe yspred
A place, that earst in lieu was
to me of better bed.
I finde the Wood where we
with boughes and gallant greaues
Yshadowde haue full often laine
among the flittring leaues,
The owner is alack
both of the place and mee:
The place is but a filthie soyle,
the place his dowre was hee.
The twifolde turning turffe
I know it very well,
And grasse, with bended head to grounde
that with our tumbling fell.
I layde me groufe vpon
thy woonted side: the banck
(A pleasaunt plot of pleasure earst)
my flushing teares it dranck
Againe the naked boughes
(their garments layde in grounde)
Did seeme to mourne, no mirrie fowle
did vse his warbling sounde.
The wofull Dame alone
that fowly was awroke
Upon hir sonne, that Itis hight
in doolefull dittie spoke.
The chyrping Fowle hir childe,
but Sappho wayles hir loue,
Forlorne Lasse: when all things else
the slumbers ioyes doe proue.
A Christall Well there is
than shining Glasse more sheere,
A holy spring, some deemen that
some sacred Saint is there.
A watrie Lotos spreades
his sprayes athwart the Well:
And all about with tender Sedge
the greenish grounde doth smell.
Where wofull wight, when I
had layde me on the grasse:
Eftsoone a stripling did appeere,
a proper boy it was.
Hee stoode him still and sayde:
what meanste thou (Nymph) I pray
To frie with such vnegall flames?
to Ambrace go thy way.
There Phœbus from a loft
the open sea doth face:
Leucadium men they say, or else
Actæuin terme the place.
Deucalion thence inragde
with Pyrrhas loue did fall
Of purpose, and he naythelesse
sustainde no hurt at all.
And straight conuersed loue
forsooke his swelting breast
That was ydrencht: and so good man
Deucalion came to reast.
Such is the place his powre
and hidden force by kinde:
Go thither in post, and skip adowne,
let feare not mooue thy minde.
He vanisht with his voice
I rose me vp agast:
And all to bainde my cheerelesse cheekes
with teares that flushed fast.
I (Nymph quoth I) will trudge
vnto the bidden place:
Let raging loue haue force and powre
all feare away to chase.
What fortune so befall,
will better present plight:
O gentle ayre beare vp my corps
that now is passing light.
And thou (O freendly Loue)
come vnderset thy wing:
Least if I die, defame vnto
Leucadian goulfe doe spring.
Then I to Phœbus will
my pleasant Lute bequeath:
And brauely cause to be ingraude
this Uerse or two beneath.
Fye (Phaon) why dost thou
me to Actæum driue:
And thou thy selfe mayst make returne
and saue thy loue aliue?
More healthfull than the flood
of Leucas thou mayst bee:
And by thy beauties seemely shape
Appollo vnto mee.
And canst thou (oh) more harde
than rocke, and ruthlesse waue
If so I die the title of
my death indure to haue?
Ah, how much better might
my breast conioyne with thine,
That thus be cast from craggie cliffe
to Sea of surging brine?
That selfe same breast which thou
commended hast so oft:
And which with passing wisdom fraught
thy selfe (freend Phaon) thought.
Now would I were faconde,
but dolour hinders Arte:
And all my wit is me bereft
by long enduring smart.
My woonted vaine in verse
is ouerdrie become:
My lowring Lute laments for wo,
my Harpe with doole is dombe.
Ye Lesbian Lasses all
that border on the Lake:
And ye that of the Æolian towne
your names are thought to take,
Ye Lesbian Lasses (that
for cause I looude you sore
Breede my defame) vnto my Harpe
I charge you come no more.
Looke what did like you earst,
of that is Phaon sped:
Alas poore wretch, my Phaon I
had very neare ysed.
Cause Phaon to retire
and then your Poet will
Reuert againe: t'is he that doth
both make and marre my skill.
What? doe my prayers preuaile,
or pierce his steely brest?
Or is he standing stiffe at stay,
a retchlesse rigorous guest?
Or doe the puffing winds transport
my wordes into the west?
The gale that hence conuaies
my voyce, oh that it might
Reduce thy fleeing Barck againe,
and bring thy ship in sight.
O ouerlingring Lad,
in fayth if thou were wise,
Thou wouldst attempt to make returne
and follow mine aduise.
What? wilt thou come? or no?
we for thy ship prepare
Our vowed giftes: why doth thy stay
enforce our harts to care?
Auale and lose thy Barcke,
take seas for Venus shee
That came offseas, will calme ye surge
come off the gale will bee
As friendly to thy comming Keale
as thou wouldst wish to see.
At Helme will Cupid sit,
and steare thy ship to lande:
He both will hoyse, and hale the sayles
with skilfull Boateswanes hande.
Or if thy pleasure bee
from Sappho farre to trudge:
(Who neuer did deserue so yll
of thee, thy selfe be iudge.)
At least let cruell lynes
will hir vnhappie wench
Unto Leucadian foorde to flee,
and there hir corps to drench.