The Chast and Lost Lovers Lively shadowed in the persons of Arcadius and Sepha, and illustrated with the severall stories of Haemon and Antigone, Eramio and Amissa, Phaon and Sappho, Delithason and Verista. Being a description of several Lovers smiling with delight, and with hopes fresh as their youth, and fair as their beauties in the beginning of their Affections, and covered with Bloud and Horror in the conclusion. To this is added the Contestation betwixt Bacchus and Diana, and certain Sonnets of the Author to Aurora. Digested into three Poems by Will. [i.e. by William Bosworth]. Bosworth |
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 | The Chast and Lost Lovers |  |
O You, said I, belov'd for upright wayes,
And fear'd of all for valour that obeys
Your conqu'ring arms! I purpose not to add
Words to your virtues, nor my speech to cladd
With flattring robes, my just revenge shall cause
A triumph for that never scorn'd applause
Of your victorious fame, which daily mov'd
Towards your names, O you so well belov'd!
Your noble friend my Father, to whose shrine
You pay your yearly tears, is now divine,
He sorry for that harm which would betide
Your never conquered arms in that he dy'd,
Dy'd loth to leave you, now there is a time,
To heap revenge against them for that crime
Those Coward traytors acted, when they slew
Your noble friend my Father; let us view
The cause that moves us to display our war,
O is't not meritorious, and far
Beyond the price of their despised blood?
Your wisdome knowes your losse, our cause is good;
Too good alas for them, I know your love
Still, still, remains alive, which makes me move
Those valiant hearts which alwayes you injoy'd,
To seek revenge 'gainst those that have destroyd
Your noble friend my Father: This, o this
Makes me require your help, nor greater bliss
Can to your dying tombes more honour gather,
Than to revenge your noble friend my Father.
O you so well belov'd, I need not show
The slothfull Thebans fearfulness, you know
The manner, and the matter of their war,
How through disorder, and discord they jar
Amongst themselves, your swords their Towers shake
At the remembrance of your names they quake.
When in the skirmage you your valour send,
To court their necks, and shew their lives their end,
Bethink you for whose sake you fight, and let
His wonted valor and remembrance whet
Your all-commanding swords, what greater gain
Than their subjection can you obtain?
Honor from thence will spring, their wealth & glories
By you enjoy'd, will fill your famous stories
With never-dying fame, and for your merit,
Your Sons shall everlasting praise inherit.
We for revenge, renown, and amity,
Our wars display, they but for liberty;
When we have girt their City with the choice
Of Martiall men, then shall we hear their voice
Come creeping to us, but our ears are stopt
From Traytors mouths, till we have overtopt
(For justice sake, on which we have reli'd)
Their weighty sins, and high aspiring pride.
O you belov'd of all, tis not a cause
Of little worth, nor only for applause
I move you to this War, survey your hearts,
There see his tomb, his wounds, and his deserts
Ever to be admir'd, your noble freind
My Father, whose too too unhappy end
Requires their blood desires no greater bliss,
Than to present his joyfull soul with this.
These and such words I us'd, with me they swore
To fetch the glory which the Thebans wore,
And plac't upon my Fathers tombe, to crown
Him with Heroick conquests, and renown.
With me they went, with me they overcame
The Thebans pride, and brought with them their fame.
Detain'd at wars, I saw you not, till late
Returning home, my ever happy fate
Blest me to hear your voice; My nimble Steed
To gratulate my labour with the deed,
So well belov'd (as if he knew my mind)
Lost me, that you fair Lady might me find.
At this she smiles, while his lov'd tale goes on;
Now since it is your chance to light upon
What was ordain'd your own, debar me not
That service from, which is my own by lot.
While I infolded in your love declare
Those sweet contents in Venus pleasures are.
For who with more delight can live? What are
Those joyes that may with these delights compare?
She blusht and said, for e're she spake she blusht,
Then from her sweet, but angry lips there rusht
This angry speech, (beloved Sir) I owe
More inward zeal than yet I will bestow
On your lascivious love, and being near
Her Talmos, flung away, and would not hear
His quick-prepar'd excuse, who over-waid
With death-tormenting grief, look'd up and said,
Shall these contempts ore-rule thy virtuous will?
O Sepha, knowest thou whom thy scorns do kill?
Well she goes on, nor looks behind to see
The fruits of her disdain, his Amitie,
But hasted home, by fond suspition led;
(So Arethusa from Alphæus fled)
Till to her chamber come, she unawares,
(Beginning now to be perplext with cares)
Look'd from a window, from a window spy'd
Her fair Arcadius dead, even then she cry'd.
Her nimble feet had not such power to bear
Her half so fast away, as now her fear
Returns her to him, ready to complain
Vpon her fate, her tender eyes doe strain
Balm to bedew his cheeks, till a sweet kiss,
(It seems beloved better than that blisse
The Heav'ns bestow'd) recall'd his sleepy eyes,
Who opening first, straight shut again and lyes
Clos'd in her arms, as if nought more could grace him,
With greater joyes, than when her arms imbrace him:
At length remembrance (usherd by a grone)
Proclaim'd his life; and am I left alone?
He said, then op't his eyes, whose fixed sight
Not yet from deaths imbracings free, did light
Vpon her face, about his voice to raise,
Soft kisses stop his speech, those past he sayes,
And fear'd of all for valour that obeys
Your conqu'ring arms! I purpose not to add
Words to your virtues, nor my speech to cladd
With flattring robes, my just revenge shall cause
A triumph for that never scorn'd applause
Of your victorious fame, which daily mov'd
Towards your names, O you so well belov'd!
Your noble friend my Father, to whose shrine
You pay your yearly tears, is now divine,
He sorry for that harm which would betide
Your never conquered arms in that he dy'd,
Dy'd loth to leave you, now there is a time,
To heap revenge against them for that crime
Those Coward traytors acted, when they slew
Your noble friend my Father; let us view
The cause that moves us to display our war,
O is't not meritorious, and far
Beyond the price of their despised blood?
Your wisdome knowes your losse, our cause is good;
Too good alas for them, I know your love
Still, still, remains alive, which makes me move
Those valiant hearts which alwayes you injoy'd,
To seek revenge 'gainst those that have destroyd
Your noble friend my Father: This, o this
Makes me require your help, nor greater bliss
Can to your dying tombes more honour gather,
Than to revenge your noble friend my Father.
77
The slothfull Thebans fearfulness, you know
The manner, and the matter of their war,
How through disorder, and discord they jar
Amongst themselves, your swords their Towers shake
At the remembrance of your names they quake.
When in the skirmage you your valour send,
To court their necks, and shew their lives their end,
Bethink you for whose sake you fight, and let
His wonted valor and remembrance whet
Your all-commanding swords, what greater gain
Than their subjection can you obtain?
Honor from thence will spring, their wealth & glories
By you enjoy'd, will fill your famous stories
With never-dying fame, and for your merit,
Your Sons shall everlasting praise inherit.
We for revenge, renown, and amity,
Our wars display, they but for liberty;
When we have girt their City with the choice
Of Martiall men, then shall we hear their voice
Come creeping to us, but our ears are stopt
From Traytors mouths, till we have overtopt
(For justice sake, on which we have reli'd)
Their weighty sins, and high aspiring pride.
O you belov'd of all, tis not a cause
Of little worth, nor only for applause
I move you to this War, survey your hearts,
There see his tomb, his wounds, and his deserts
Ever to be admir'd, your noble freind
My Father, whose too too unhappy end
Requires their blood desires no greater bliss,
Than to present his joyfull soul with this.
78
To fetch the glory which the Thebans wore,
And plac't upon my Fathers tombe, to crown
Him with Heroick conquests, and renown.
With me they went, with me they overcame
The Thebans pride, and brought with them their fame.
Detain'd at wars, I saw you not, till late
Returning home, my ever happy fate
Blest me to hear your voice; My nimble Steed
To gratulate my labour with the deed,
So well belov'd (as if he knew my mind)
Lost me, that you fair Lady might me find.
At this she smiles, while his lov'd tale goes on;
Now since it is your chance to light upon
What was ordain'd your own, debar me not
That service from, which is my own by lot.
While I infolded in your love declare
Those sweet contents in Venus pleasures are.
For who with more delight can live? What are
Those joyes that may with these delights compare?
She blusht and said, for e're she spake she blusht,
Then from her sweet, but angry lips there rusht
This angry speech, (beloved Sir) I owe
More inward zeal than yet I will bestow
On your lascivious love, and being near
Her Talmos, flung away, and would not hear
His quick-prepar'd excuse, who over-waid
With death-tormenting grief, look'd up and said,
Shall these contempts ore-rule thy virtuous will?
O Sepha, knowest thou whom thy scorns do kill?
Well she goes on, nor looks behind to see
The fruits of her disdain, his Amitie,
79
(So Arethusa from Alphæus fled)
Till to her chamber come, she unawares,
(Beginning now to be perplext with cares)
Look'd from a window, from a window spy'd
Her fair Arcadius dead, even then she cry'd.
Her nimble feet had not such power to bear
Her half so fast away, as now her fear
Returns her to him, ready to complain
Vpon her fate, her tender eyes doe strain
Balm to bedew his cheeks, till a sweet kiss,
(It seems beloved better than that blisse
The Heav'ns bestow'd) recall'd his sleepy eyes,
Who opening first, straight shut again and lyes
Clos'd in her arms, as if nought more could grace him,
With greater joyes, than when her arms imbrace him:
At length remembrance (usherd by a grone)
Proclaim'd his life; and am I left alone?
He said, then op't his eyes, whose fixed sight
Not yet from deaths imbracings free, did light
Vpon her face, about his voice to raise,
Soft kisses stop his speech, those past he sayes,
Yee Gods, whose too too hasty shafts have strook
Beguiling joyes into my eyes, and took
My heavy soule from that thrice blessed place
Where Sepha dwells, who must Elisium grace,
What yeelds this Heav'n? O would I still might live,
Her presence yeelds more joyes than Heav'n can give;
Invest me with all pleasures that you please
In Heav'n to have, with Canticles of ease
That follow pious soules, they nought will yield
To me but grief; while o're th'Elisian field,
And gloomy shades, continuall steps I take
For her safe wastage or'e the Stygian lake.
These words he spake, taking her face for Heaven,
(In whom the Powers, all powerfull grace had given)
Where still he thought he was, while Sepha griev'd,
With cordiall water from her eyes, reviv'd
His not yet living sense, with greedy eyes
He views her face, who with this speech replyes.
To me 'tis strange, that you (within whose brest
Such rare undaunted strength and wit doth rest)
Through foolish grief should yeeld your sacred soul
To Charons boat, who shall your death condole
So slightly caus'd? shall I? beleeve me no,
I'le rather seek some noble means to show
How much you strive with faint tormenting mind
To raise that heart wherein you lie inshrind.
Should men dispair for once or twice refusall,
Few men would speed, for to our Sex tis usual;
And often, words outstep the carelesse lip,
Which past, repent that e're they let them slip.
Now let this message in thy bosome light
Arcadius, thou art the sole delight
Of this my wretched life, for thee I live,
To live with thee, to thee my love I give.
Preserve it then so worthy to be lov'd,
That of thee alwayes I may be belov'd:
Let no lascivious thought pollute the same,
Which may increase a scandall to my name,
But with unstain'd desires let me be led
By Hymens rites unspotted to thy bed.
Have you not heard young lambs with wailing cries
Lament their dams departure? who still lies
Vnder the sheerers hands? with discontent
Thinking them dead, their sudden death lament?
While they to hinder the bemoning notes
Get up, and pay their ransome with their coats.
Even so Arcadius with attentive care,
Observ'd each word her heav'nly lips did spare,
Still fearing lest some various conclusion,
Should draw his life to sable nights confusion.
But when he heard the full, Ladies I know
You can conceive what streams of joy did flow
In his still honor'd brest, he nimbly rose,
Conjur'd the Air to keep her message close
From babling Ecchoes, to her self he vows
An amrous kiss, and she his kiss allows.
He crav'd remission for his faulty words,
Now askt, and straight remission she affords,
And binds him to the limits of unstain'd
Desire, and with her golden tresses chain'd
His heart from all deceit, with such pure grace,
As ought in ev'ry lover to have place;
To Talmos she (proud of her prize) him ledd,
(For know fair Sepha's parents both were dead)
Where entertain'd with many royall sips
He drunk full boules of Nectar from her lips.
Time hasty to produce the marriage day
Of these impatient lovers, hy'd his way;
And Sepha after many sweet imbraces,
Fraught with conceit, and stuft with interlaces
Of their ensuing pleasure, did permit
Arcadius departure, who unfit
For any service, but the winged God,
To Arathea went, and as he rode,
Oft blam'd orehasty time their joy t'undo,
But prais'd him for the sports that should ensue.
Now was it when the fraction of the day
From sable night had made Aurora way,
When I, ambiguous of suceeding fate,
Forsook my native countrey for the hate
'Gainst me conceiv'd, me
Minos Country bred
Whose hundred Cities with amazement led
Each eye to view their pride; My Father old,
And I a pretty stripling, did uphold
The staffe of his declining age, with care
I cherisht him, and did the burthen bear
Of his domestick ployments, now it was,
(When all his businesse through my hands did pass)
That once he sent me to attend the sheep,
Where Woods sweet chanters summon'd me to sleep:
Within a Cave of Parian stone compos'd,
I laid me down, I laid me down, and clos'd
My duskish eyes, sure some inchantments kept
The same with Magick spells, for there I slept
Whole seventeen years away; awak'd at last,
I got me up, and to my home did haste,
Not knowing so much time away was fled,
I call'd my friends, but lo, my friends were dead.
This known I left Minoia, and spent
My dayes in Rome, not caring where I went,
Nor what I did; nor there I long remaind,
Cause more mishap was to my life ordain'd:
Mugiona stands pointing to a way
Call'd Appia, through which my journey lay;
Nor many dayes were spent before I came
Vnto that Town which Sora hath to name;
And there a while I staid, a while I strove
To kill those griefs, which never ceas'd to move
A desp'rate end, for that unwisht mischance
Still gnawing on my soul, about t'advance
My sword towards my end, ô stay a while
A voice bespake, let not thy wrath beguile
Thee of succeding joyes; amaz'd I stood,
Not knowing why to save, or spill my blood.
My eyes could shew me nothing, but my ears
Granted a convoy for the sob'd-forth tears
Of a distressed Lady, what mishap
Hath Fortune more, said she, than to intrap
Our joyes, and cut them off? the voice did guide
Me to a little grove, wherein I spi'd
A wretched Lady with torn hair discover,
(O're the dead corps of her beloved lover)
Th'irreparable loss, and hatefull breath,
She did sustain through his untimely death.
Agast she trembled, and with liquid eyes,
Sent with her lovers soul into the skyes,
Prayes that her end may with his end appear,
Or here to have him, or to have him there.
A while I stood, either with fear o'regon,
Or else with grief not able to go on,
Till she with sword tug'd from his wounded brest,
Made passage for her souls eternall rest.
I hi'd me to her, but my steps were lost,
The wound was given; saith she, since we are crost
Of Terrene pleasures, and those joyes do miss,
Our soules shall wed in Heav'ns eternall bliss.
I striv'd to stop her blood, but she deny'd
That any favour should to her betide,
Since she was cross'd in all designes, and said,
If the entreaties of a dying maid,
Sir Knight may move you, grant this last request,
With your own sword give period to the rest
Of him who did my Delithason slay,
O're yon ambitious hill he took his way.
I vow'd their deaths revenge, withall desir'd,
Since she would die, before her life expir'd
Its glorious date, t'acquaint my pitying ears
With her sad story, while whole shours of tears
Imbalm the body dead; alas said she,
You cause me to renew the grief must be
My pasport to his foul, then faintly rais'd
Her weary head: For ever be ye prais'd
(Ye Powrs) that grant me liberty t'unfold
Our Tragick ends, and then this story told.
Beguiling joyes into my eyes, and took
My heavy soule from that thrice blessed place
Where Sepha dwells, who must Elisium grace,
What yeelds this Heav'n? O would I still might live,
Her presence yeelds more joyes than Heav'n can give;
Invest me with all pleasures that you please
In Heav'n to have, with Canticles of ease
That follow pious soules, they nought will yield
To me but grief; while o're th'Elisian field,
And gloomy shades, continuall steps I take
For her safe wastage or'e the Stygian lake.
80
(In whom the Powers, all powerfull grace had given)
Where still he thought he was, while Sepha griev'd,
With cordiall water from her eyes, reviv'd
His not yet living sense, with greedy eyes
He views her face, who with this speech replyes.
To me 'tis strange, that you (within whose brest
Such rare undaunted strength and wit doth rest)
Through foolish grief should yeeld your sacred soul
To Charons boat, who shall your death condole
So slightly caus'd? shall I? beleeve me no,
I'le rather seek some noble means to show
How much you strive with faint tormenting mind
To raise that heart wherein you lie inshrind.
Should men dispair for once or twice refusall,
Few men would speed, for to our Sex tis usual;
And often, words outstep the carelesse lip,
Which past, repent that e're they let them slip.
Now let this message in thy bosome light
Arcadius, thou art the sole delight
Of this my wretched life, for thee I live,
To live with thee, to thee my love I give.
Preserve it then so worthy to be lov'd,
That of thee alwayes I may be belov'd:
Let no lascivious thought pollute the same,
Which may increase a scandall to my name,
But with unstain'd desires let me be led
By Hymens rites unspotted to thy bed.
Have you not heard young lambs with wailing cries
Lament their dams departure? who still lies
Vnder the sheerers hands? with discontent
Thinking them dead, their sudden death lament?
While they to hinder the bemoning notes
Get up, and pay their ransome with their coats.
81
Observ'd each word her heav'nly lips did spare,
Still fearing lest some various conclusion,
Should draw his life to sable nights confusion.
But when he heard the full, Ladies I know
You can conceive what streams of joy did flow
In his still honor'd brest, he nimbly rose,
Conjur'd the Air to keep her message close
From babling Ecchoes, to her self he vows
An amrous kiss, and she his kiss allows.
He crav'd remission for his faulty words,
Now askt, and straight remission she affords,
And binds him to the limits of unstain'd
Desire, and with her golden tresses chain'd
His heart from all deceit, with such pure grace,
As ought in ev'ry lover to have place;
To Talmos she (proud of her prize) him ledd,
(For know fair Sepha's parents both were dead)
Where entertain'd with many royall sips
He drunk full boules of Nectar from her lips.
Time hasty to produce the marriage day
Of these impatient lovers, hy'd his way;
And Sepha after many sweet imbraces,
Fraught with conceit, and stuft with interlaces
Of their ensuing pleasure, did permit
Arcadius departure, who unfit
For any service, but the winged God,
To Arathea went, and as he rode,
Oft blam'd orehasty time their joy t'undo,
But prais'd him for the sports that should ensue.
Now was it when the fraction of the day
From sable night had made Aurora way,
When I, ambiguous of suceeding fate,
Forsook my native countrey for the hate
82
Whose hundred Cities with amazement led
Each eye to view their pride; My Father old,
And I a pretty stripling, did uphold
The staffe of his declining age, with care
I cherisht him, and did the burthen bear
Of his domestick ployments, now it was,
(When all his businesse through my hands did pass)
That once he sent me to attend the sheep,
Where Woods sweet chanters summon'd me to sleep:
Within a Cave of Parian stone compos'd,
I laid me down, I laid me down, and clos'd
My duskish eyes, sure some inchantments kept
The same with Magick spells, for there I slept
Whole seventeen years away; awak'd at last,
I got me up, and to my home did haste,
Not knowing so much time away was fled,
I call'd my friends, but lo, my friends were dead.
This known I left Minoia, and spent
My dayes in Rome, not caring where I went,
Nor what I did; nor there I long remaind,
Cause more mishap was to my life ordain'd:
Mugiona stands pointing to a way
Call'd Appia, through which my journey lay;
Nor many dayes were spent before I came
Vnto that Town which Sora hath to name;
And there a while I staid, a while I strove
To kill those griefs, which never ceas'd to move
A desp'rate end, for that unwisht mischance
Still gnawing on my soul, about t'advance
My sword towards my end, ô stay a while
A voice bespake, let not thy wrath beguile
83
Not knowing why to save, or spill my blood.
My eyes could shew me nothing, but my ears
Granted a convoy for the sob'd-forth tears
Of a distressed Lady, what mishap
Hath Fortune more, said she, than to intrap
Our joyes, and cut them off? the voice did guide
Me to a little grove, wherein I spi'd
A wretched Lady with torn hair discover,
(O're the dead corps of her beloved lover)
Th'irreparable loss, and hatefull breath,
She did sustain through his untimely death.
Agast she trembled, and with liquid eyes,
Sent with her lovers soul into the skyes,
Prayes that her end may with his end appear,
Or here to have him, or to have him there.
A while I stood, either with fear o'regon,
Or else with grief not able to go on,
Till she with sword tug'd from his wounded brest,
Made passage for her souls eternall rest.
I hi'd me to her, but my steps were lost,
The wound was given; saith she, since we are crost
Of Terrene pleasures, and those joyes do miss,
Our soules shall wed in Heav'ns eternall bliss.
I striv'd to stop her blood, but she deny'd
That any favour should to her betide,
Since she was cross'd in all designes, and said,
If the entreaties of a dying maid,
Sir Knight may move you, grant this last request,
With your own sword give period to the rest
Of him who did my Delithason slay,
O're yon ambitious hill he took his way.
I vow'd their deaths revenge, withall desir'd,
Since she would die, before her life expir'd
84
With her sad story, while whole shours of tears
Imbalm the body dead; alas said she,
You cause me to renew the grief must be
My pasport to his foul, then faintly rais'd
Her weary head: For ever be ye prais'd
(Ye Powrs) that grant me liberty t'unfold
Our Tragick ends, and then this story told.
| The Chast and Lost Lovers | |