Diana of George of Montemayor :: :: University of Virginia Library

That deluge of reuengement being past,
Determined that was by Gods aboue,
For guilt of wickednes of mortall men:
The earth of moisture yet remaining full,
Wherewith the heate of Titans beames conioyn'd,
Strange creatures did engender of the same:
Diuers in shape, proportion and in kinde.
Amongst the which a Serpent did arise,
Cruell, vntam'd, and greater then a hill,
In Thessalie, a Prouince of great fame;
That first put bridle to the horse his mouth.
This monstrous Serpent did deuoure, and waste
His natiue soile, and all the people there:
He spared not the corne (a sweete rewarde
And hope of him that did with labour sowe it)
He spared not the strong and painfull Oxe,
(The faithfull seruant of the countrey toyle)
As little spared he the harmlesse Calues,
Nor goates, nor kids, that skipt about the heathes.
He spared not the flockes of simple sheepe,
Nor gentle lambes, nor heards of grazing neate.

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He spar'd no house, nor of the little Bee
The sweetest worke (the Mistresse of her art)
This cruell beast had no regarde of men,
For whose auaile each thing created was.
But as the supreme Gods would not consent,
With angrie hand to spoile the world anew:
They did prouide forthwith a speedie helpe,
Since humane skill and wit could not preuaile.
For God Apollo going foorth to hunt,
With bowe and quiuer full of wounding shaftes:
Onely on Buckes his cunning aime to trie,
On mountaine goates, wilde boares, and sauage beastes,
He did by chaunce encounter with this Serpent;
Which cruell monster when he did behold,
He by and by contemn'd his wonted chace,
To make his name eternall by his death.
For straight he bent his hardned bowe of steele,
And from his backe his golden quiuer tooke,
And drew thereout his shaftes with wounding heads;
Which dipt in poyson, he did shoote with force,
And nailed them betweene the Serpents skailes,
And there lay Python stretched on the ground.
(For this the cruell Serpent had to name)
Apollo haughty in his ioyfull minde,
For glory of so great an enterprise,
Remaining there, to view his noble spoiles,
Proude with himselfe he did triumph so much
For this great victory, that he did thinke
That heauen had not a God like to himselfe;
Which by his speeches he did manifest,
Speaking sometimes vnto the monstrous beast,
Sometimes vnto his quiuer, and his bowe;
With ioy and pride did vtter foorth these wordes.

Glorie of glories O most excellent,
Triumph of triumphes O the most esteemed,
Of victories O worthy victorie.
O deede, aboue all deedes in honour deemed:
O chance, then any chance more eminent:
O fame of fames the sole supremacie.
O happy war, whereby
My arme so fortunate
With power did abate
The fiercest Serpent that was euer bred:
O crowne most worthy for my conquering head.
O bowe, that from complaining didst deliuer
The people well nie dead,
O happy shaftes, O braue and blessed quiuer.

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Python for thee the ground was barren still,
Denying her increase, and wonted fruite,
For thee, the learned Bee did aie lament,
That she could not her sweetest worke salute:
For thee, the gentle Ewe her selfe did kill,
For griefe to see her lambe in peeces rent:
For thee out of his tent
The Shepherd durst not goe,
For cleerely he did knowe,
How much thy poysoned tooth and breath did harme:
For thee the husbandman within his Farme,
And Citizens within their wals for feare
(Did in their Cities swarme)
Of euerie shadow thinking thou wert there.

What God deserues all the heauenly Quire
Incense in sacrifice as doth Apollo?
And what God by his skill and cunning art,
As many as the firmament so hollow
Containes, to such great titles doth aspire
With honours type, renown'd in euerie part?
For nature doth impart
Her gifts, and euerie grace
To me, their proper place.
I did inuent the art of medicine,
If any oze like prophet doth diuine,
I am the God, that answers and inspires,
My musicke passing fine
Doth answer that the heauens make in their gires.

A famous Sirname I shall now obtaine,
O Serpent Python by thy mortall death:
And I will cause, that they shall celebrate
This libertie in neuer dying breath.
With solemne sports and feasting to maintaine
This glorie, in eternall time and state.
And that this golden date
In historie by fame,
That streight doth blaze the same,
And sparing such, as alwaies we do see,
Neuer in this may such a niggard be.
And though of others she doth prate too much,
And speaketh partially,
Not any lye herein, her toong shall touch.

He therefore being in this sort content,
By chaunce (and yet it may be to requite.
The gen'rall scorne he made of all the Gods)

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The childe God Cupid passed by that way.
(A puissant and mightie Lord of loue)
A golden quiuer hung behinde his backe,
In his left hand he bare a bended bowe:
And in his right, two fine and prety shaftes.

His eies were both bound with a silken string,
Whom, now as soone as God Apollo sawe,
Thinking that none, but he deseru'd to beare
A bowe, and shaftes, and quiuer at his backe:
In brauing sort these proud iniurious wordes,
And full of scorne he thus to him affordes.

What's he so proude, and stoute that doth impute him
Worthy of those braue weapons in his hand?
What, knowes he not that they are due to me;
And none but I this honor may demand?
T'is Venus sonne, God Cupid, it is he,
So call'd, but heere he comes, I will salute him:
Infamous villaine, theefe and voide of shame,
And wicked robber of anothers fame.

Be these thy tooles? Tell me, why dost weare them,
That art a wanton, far for thee vnfit?
Deliuer them, for these my hands diuine
Doe beautifie, and on my shoulders sit
With better grace, and honour then on thine,
That art not able halfe ynough to beare them.
Then little boy, leaue of with these to boast thee,
If not, in faith, full deerely they shall cost thee.

This furniture is proper to my might,
These shaftes, this quiuer, and this bended bowe:
With them I slew fell Python, that of sheepe
Whole stockes within his belly did bestowe.
And them to kill wilde beastes, and birdes I keepe,
For onely these belong to me of right.
With them (moreouer) if it be my will,
With mortall woundes mine enemies I kill.

Thy fires and flames should well content thy minde,
With which (fond Loue) with loue thou giuest paine,
Ioine not thy sportes, nor thy dishonest brandes
With these braue weapons of my glorious gaine.
Leaue then this bowe, dishonoured by thy handes,
And see, if that thou canst, that art so blinde:
Thine eies are blinded with a silken string,
How canst thou then ayme right at any thing?

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Cupid at this waxt angrie and asham'd.
But yet with threats to his vnworthie scornes,
Nor with proude words in no wise would reply.
For mightie Loue, as he is verie wise,
And resolute of that he takes in hand,
Cares not to bragge it out with threatning words:
But doth performe it with most valiant deedes.
But yet bicause his follies he should know,
And how he was deceiued in his might,
Which all the Gods besides himselfe had knowen
(For yet Apollo neuer felt the paines,
Nor cruell torments that braue Cupid giues)
With gentle words proceeding from a minde,
Incensed more within, then outwardly,
To his braue termes this speech he did reply.

Too proud thou hast thy selfe (Apollo) showen
In speaking such vile words vnto my face.
Such rather I embrace
With honour, and I vse them not, but saying
Nothing at all in such a wrong full case,
I do such things as like were neuer none.
Hearke then how I am knowen
By word of mouth, and how much I am swaying.
After by deed, I will bring thee to obaying.
Neptune, and Ioue, and Vulcan I do keepe
Vnder my mightie will:
Few Gods there are, that with their skill,
Do free themselues, but vnto me do creepe.
The Goddesses do weepe
To heare my name, and yeeld with mere consent
Vnto my gouernment.
And Venus, though my louing mother be,
Cannot escape with partiall libertie.

What man is he, neuer so strong in armes,
That hath escaped in my amorous field?
Here bootes not speare, nor sheeld,
Nor Mars his weapons, nor his strong defence.
In vaine he fights, whom I will haue to yeeld.
Learning and wisedome here procure but harmes,
And flie at my Alarmes,
And staying do imprint a deeper sence
Of louing passions, and with more offence.
Women (mine ornament) do euer hide
What neuer was concealed.
For flames are hardly vnreuealed.
The birds and sauage boastes my hands hath tide

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Vnto my yoke, beside,
That Nature doth her selfe my chariot follow.
Then tell me now Apollo,
If that thou think'st to get such puissance,
As that with these thou shouldst not come to dance.

Thou dost reioice, bicause these armes are due
To thee, for killing of that monster fell.
But harke, and I will tell,
How these belong more iustly to my might,
Although thy shaft in wounding doth excell,
It neuer yet but beastes and venison slew,
Apollo, this is true.
But mine shall wound thy soule both day and night:
And thou shalt sweare, mine is the onely slight.
So that how much each beast, not me,
In mgiht thou dost exceede,
And gett'st most glory by this deede,
So much more famous shall my conquest be.
But now thy follies see,
In saying, that this quiuer, and this bowe
Did me dishonor so.
For thee, Apollo, better had it beene,
If with my selfe the same thou hadst not seene.

Thou saist I nill deserue this ornament,
Bicause mine eies are blinded with a band;
And therefore that my hand
Must needes shoote false bicause that I am blinde.
And yet, besides, I tell thee that they stand
Against all reason, and intendement.
Harke now, to what intent?
And how this comes so fitly to my minde.
Then tell me, if thou think'st it out of kinde,
For any God to burne in feruent loue
Of any woman heere?
That more his greefes, and paines appeere,
The more she should from him her liking mooue.
If blinde, such things I prooue,
And studie to reuenge me with my flight?
Tell me, were it not right?
Then take good heede, since thus my bowe doth kill:
And makes thy reason subiect to my will.

This said, he would no longer with him stay,
Nor harken more to answeres nor replies:
Nor did Apollo care to answere him,
Esteeming nought his childish wordes, and threats.

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But Cupid wounding with his golden wings
The loftie aire, that burned as he went,
Without delay he gaines the shadowed top
Of mount Parnasse, where looking round about
He staies, and waites the meanes to venge himselfe
At pleasure of Apollos proude contempt.
Wherefore out of his quiuer he doth take
Two wounding headed arrowes fatall both:
In colour diuers and in their effects,
For th' one procureth loue, with burning fire,
The other hate, with cold and frozen ice.
Golden is that, that causeth feruent loue,
Leaden is that, that causeth frozen hate:
And talking with them both, as though they did
Conceiue his wordes, in this sort he did say.

Come speedy out (my louing friendes)
And shew your valour, and your force so high:
In you my trust, and hope doth lie,
That you will shew, whereon my strength depends.
Beate downe Apollos pride,
That heere our honour did deride:
That he may know, how well my words agree
With earnest deedes as shortly he shall see.

Since thou, that art so sharpe and tride
With kindling fire in each louing brest,
Thou shalt Apollos hart molest,
That cruell paines, and smartes he may abide.
And thou that art of bluntie lead,
Strike thou some womans hart so dead
In cruell hate, that she shall neuer feele
The sense of loue, no more then stone, or steele.

Apollo there remained very glad,
Calling the heauens, the elements, and beastes,
The trees, the meades, the springs, the birdes, and fish
To ioy with him in his renowned spoile,
And victorie, by Pythons death he got:
For in this sort with ioyfull face he said.

O heauenly frame,
Whose course, and sweete accents
Giue earthly things their life, that ar
Of natures name.
You circled elements,
So contrarie in secret war,
You beastes, that far

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And neere, in earth doe make your dwelling place,
You birdes, that in the skie
With hastie wing doe flie,
You fishes, that the christall streames imbrace,
For my braue deede
Come shew your selues content in ioies agreed.
You shadowed treene,
An ease of sweete delight,
And fence from Titans burning heate:
Faire meades and greene,
And waters sweete and bright,
This sorrest that with liquours weate:
Greene Iuies seate,
That liuest still, and dy'st not in thy kinde,
And wind'st about the tree,
That still vpholdeth thee:
For this braue deed,
Come shew your selues content in ioies agreed.

Apollo being in this ioyfull moode,
Behold where comes a fine and tender Nymph,
And fairer then Aurora in her prime,
Laden with spoiles, she got by hunting late,
A Nymph endow'd with vertues high and rare
The father oft vnto his Daphne saide
(For so they say this fairest Nymph was call'd,
And Pene was her aged fathers name)
Daughter to me thou ow'st a sonne in lawe.
Daughter, to me some nephewes thou dost owe.
But with a teint, like the Vermillion Rose,
Bespred vpon her face as white as snowe,
To see her father would haue wedded her,
The chastest virgine with her tender armes
All Lilly white about the louing necke
Of her deere father sweetely then did hang:
Requesting him, that he would giue her leaue,
To leade her life in spotlesse chastitie,
And liue therein, as she had liu'd before.
Her louing father graunted her request.
But yet before to hinder her intent,
With graue aduise vnto her he did tell,
How heate of youth, and wealth, and beauties lure,
Were contrarie vnto the chastest minde.
And how that each of them alone is able
To worke the tender hart like melted wax.
How much more easie then, when all in one
Were found, as in faire Daphne they did raigne.
Yet though she did excell in all these giftes,

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She would not leaue to put her chaste intent
In practise, and Dianas grace to serue.
And saying, it was true her father spake.
And said, if that she had such cause to vaunt
That she was rich, and faire, and nobly borne:
That it was tenfold deerer vnto her
To be accounted chaste of euerie one.
And that her chiefest honour did consist
In honest, pure, and vndefiled life.
Now therefore as the virgine did not know
(Bicause her minde was so on vertue bent)
What thing loue was, nor due of marriage rites,
To hunt it was her onely ioy, and sport.
Then hither came this gallant Nymph to chase,
Where proud Apollo went by chaunce to hunt:
Not thinking to finde out so farie a game.
Bicause his breast, free from the thoughts of loue,
Was onely bent in thinking of his spoile.
He was so glad and did triumphe so much
Within himselfe, that he did neuer thinke
Of any thing but this, till (to his harme)
He cast his wandring cies vnto the place,
Where he did spie faire Daphne in her chace.