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Arisbas, Euphues amidst his slumbers

Or Cupid's Iourney to Hell. Decyphering a myrror of Constancie, a Touch-stone of tried affection, begun in chaste desires, ended in choise delights: And emblasoning Beauties glorie, adorned by Natures bountie. VVith the Trivmph of Trve Loue, in the Soyle of false Fortune. By I. D. i.e. John Dickenson]
 
 

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Arisbas his Sonet.

Should I accuse mine eyes that boldly gazed
On that fayre obiect not to be obteyned,
Or blame the worth in Europes wonder blazed,
That them to looke and me to loue constreyned?
Eyes for excuse alleadgde preuailing reason,
Heart in extreames on fancies wrong exclaymed:
Hopes sun-shine clowded like obscurest season,
Yeelds to despeire at my misfortunes aymed.
Nature too lauish outward graces planted,
Vertue too friendly inward bounties sowed:
Yet those faire eyes of courteous looks are scanted,
And angels hue on tygres thoughts bestowed.
Tush, loue which not alike did wound vs both,
Is cause, that I my death-like life doe loath.


Arisbas his Elegie.

Faint wel I may for I feele enfeebling faintnes about me,
faintnes vpon my lims heart to beset to besot.
Loue is a God but a cruell God but a boy but a wanton
blinde but boldly triumphs, proud to be tearmd a tyran.
What shal I do? shal I sue to the gods that lodge in Olympus?
there loue seated aloft vaunts to be Lord ouer all.
Heau'n yeelds small comfort: him, they do tremble obeying,
and themselues enthralde cannot alas me release.
What shal I doe? shal I sue to the pow'r whome Cyprus adoreth,
loues loue-worthy mother though not a friend to Cupid?
Her doth he wound and smiles when her hap Cytherea bewaileth,
how then will he for her yeeld to releeue another?
What shal I then? shal I sue to the boyish God that hath hurt mee,
hurt and harmd me so, that little is my reliefe?
Then wil he vexe mee more til heart more heauily languish,
torne as Prometheus fruteful vnhappy liuer.
What shal I then? ile sue to the saint whose lookes me bereaued
of liues blisse through loue, loue the decayer of hope,
O that beautie so rare (but I blush to blame such a bountie)
should staine fairest hue with such a blot such a blur.
Yet wil I try, to the saint wil I pray and sue to be succord,
in whose choise it rest mee to relieue to release.


Cupids iourney to Hell.

Loue leauing heau'n gan post to Stygian lake,
And being landed on the farther shore,
For Plutoes palace did his iourney make,
To view his vncles Court and royal store.
Thus hauing crept from mothers sight by stealth,
He welcom'd is with pompe by bloodlesse ghoasts:
And hels grim tyran greeting him with health,
His royalties to powre-full nephew boasts.
Hauing viewd each strange hue of monstrous shape,
They feasted with great iollitie in hell:
And sawc'd their meate with store of pressed grape,
Till wine did wit and sense from them expell.
Sleepe causde by fumes to their ore-charged braines,
Did seaze on both: first Pluto tooke a nap:
Next, Cupid (thus his quaffing moode constraines)
Laie downe to rest him, dreading no mishap.
In hast the fondling from his shoulders threw,
His deare bought quiuer and his fatall bowe:
Faire Proserpine came in and at the view,
Forthwith exclaimde, these, these haue wrought my woe.
These, these causde me depriude of wonted ioy,
T'inhabit Hell these firde the leachers lust:
But sith they are misguided by a boy,
I will commit them to an others trust.
This said, came Plutus headlong tumbling in,
Plutus the god of Coyne blinde as the other:


Whom with faire words the guilefull queene did win,
T'vsurpe those gifts and seeme loues second brother:
At first he fearde, at last he was delighted,
With vsing them and smiled oft to thinke:
How mens affections by those shafts excited,
Obeide his doome which loue with gold did linke.
Cupid awaking miss'd the dreaded signes
Of godheads might: strange passions did him tosse:
He wreathes his armes in folds and them vntwines,
Thus childishly he mones his haplesse losse.
He wept, he fled, in hell he durst not hide him,
Grieude with the murmure of so many soules,
Neere heau'n he dares not come least Venus chide him.
What should he do whom Fortune thus controules?
Foule fall the wagge that lost so rare a iewell
Long may he lurke that could no better gard
His fathers toile, his mothers pride, the fewell,
Which for hearts wracke, eyes glaunses haue preparde.
Sith then the god of gaine vsurps loues roome,
I will with gifts make sute for gracious doome.


Dorylus his Ode, in English Sapphiques.

Tell me thou fairest of al earthly creatures
Faire by thy vertue, by thy beautie blessed,
Tell me what moues thee to refuse my seruice
sleightly regarded?
Loue of a sole life to be like Diana
May perhaps moue you, but I wish ye would not:
Would not or could not, but I hope ye will not,
stil be resolude so.
If to the Forrests, to the shadie thickets,
Fancie doth moue thee to repaire alone thus,
If to the wide woods, to the craggie mountaines,
or to the vallies,
Then wil I speed mee to the groues vnhanted,
Where Satyres sport them to the Fairie wood-Nymphs,
Nimbly now skipping, then againe reposing,
neare to the fountaines.
Like not a sole life: Venus is reuenging,
Feare ye not frownings of an angrie goddesse?
Scorne not her hests then: be no foe to Nature,
Loue is a pleasure.
Beautie decaieth, yet is no chiefest
Grace of a Virgin, yet it is required:
Life is vncertaine. Who can hold a shadow
Lost in a moment?


Dorylus his Madrigal.

Loue vowde himselfe my friend and chose his time
To wound faire Palma: Cynthia him espide,
As wantonly the god did climbe
To fit his aime, and sware to worke his smart,
If he presum'd to pierce so chaste an heart:
And therewithall from Mayden side
She drew a shaft: away the god gan flie
With wings fast wau'd, nor durst the wanton scant
Or slacke his course amid the skie,
Thus he his will and I my wish must want.


The description of Hyalus in an Ode.

Ganimede th'Idæan boy,
Second glorie of the day:
Phrigiaes wonder fathers ioy,
Loues content, Ioues wishfull pray,
Blith Adonis beauties treasure,
Venus darling, Fancies fire,
In whose lookes were heauens of pleasure,
Fruite too faire of foule desire:
Both these would, though both were rare,
Both the mirrors of their time:
Blush if they should make compare,
With this wonder of our clime.


In whose eyes loue lodgd his darts,
But he did with glaunses ayme them,
That hee might subdue all hearts,
And his owne by conquest clayme them.
Such his face such was his stature,
Locks resembling burnisht golde,
That his like, astonisht nature,
Framd not since of earthly moulde.
Nature at her selfe amazed,
O what influence then did guide her,
Sith in want such worth was blazed,
Worth which heau'ns haue since denide her?
May not then this louely boy,
For he was a louely creature,
Well be tearmd Arcadiaes ioy,
Blest in bearing such a feature?
Well he may and if not he,
Who should then our wonder be?


The strife of Loue and Beautie.

Loue was arm'd with fatall bowe,
Shafts which mother did bestowe,
Mother gaue, but Father framde,
Father, Mother, both were blamde.
Wanton Goddesse did beguile
Husband with a feigned smile:
For a kisse she did obtaine
(Labor neuer spent in vaine,)
That her Sonne by Vulcanes trade
Might the chiefest God be made.
Thus she wonne him to her will,
(Wily worke of womans skill)
But the boy more proude then wise,
Waues his wings and foorth he flyes.
Soone as he on earth had lighted,
Thus the fondling was despighted.
As he vaunted vncontrolde
Thinking all that glisterd golde,
Terming in a foolish thought
Which his selfe-conceipt had wrought,
Heau'n his foote-stoole, Gods his marke,
Men his obiects, earth his parke,
Gods and men his hunting game,
Beauty natures deareling came:
Beautie clad in natiue hue,
Whome the Graces did endue
With rich plentie of their gifts,
Beautie cause of witty shifts:
Beautie with whose worth delighted,
Poets haue sweet hymns endited:
Faire as is the ruddy morne,
Leauing restfull bowre forlorne.


Morne dide with Vermilion red,
Rising from old Tithones bed,
Thus this fairest of all faire,
Deind to grace the liquide aire:
Passing by where loue did stand,
Holding powre-full bowe in hand
Not saluting as she went,
Him that rag'd in discontent.
Boyling wrath must issue finde,
Wrath that boilde in troubled minde
For the ease of whose vnrest,
Thus his furie was exprest.
Loue said he was Beauties better:
She said Loue was Natures debter.
Loue exclaimde on Beauties pride,
Which all duties force denide.
She said Loue receiude no wrong,
Where no dutie did belong.
None might craue peculiar right,
Sith they were of equall might.
He said beautie nere preuailed,
But where Loue the heart assailed.
Beautie for it selfe admired,
His shafts causde to be desired.
For where Loue bred no remorse,
There had beautie litle force.
Psyche was more faire then any:
Loude of few, though likde of many.
Yet so likde that not affected:
Sisters sped, but she reiected.
Yet, quoth Beautie Psyche gainde
Cupids heart to her enchainde.
Where was then his wonted might?
Vanquishde by a womans sight?
Thus fell Loue into a trip:
Thus she galde him with a quip.


He said twas his owne procurement,
She said it was her allurement.
Loue said beautie pleasde the eie,
But he wrought hearts sympathie.
She said heart when eye had viewde,
Was by beauties force subdude.
He said beautie soone decaide:
She said loue no longer staide,
Then while beautie was in prime:
Thus did both giue place to time.
Cupid grieude with these replies,
Framde by her in taunting wise:
Sware by dreadfull Stygian lake,
(Greatest vow that gods can make)
That he would no more descend,
Till he did this quarrell end:
Vowing by his godheads might,
Beauties darlings to despight.
Thus he saies, and vp he flies
Swiftly through the Empyre skies.
If men might this strife decide,
As by men it should be tride,
Then would all agree in one,
Beautie can preuaile alone:
Beautie able to enthrall,
Eyes and heart, and thoughts and all:
Yet three powers in one assenting
Stroke mine heart, heart soone relenting.
Eyes saw beautie and admirde it,
Loue saw heart, through eyes he firde it,
But faire lookes did first constraine
Cupids shafts to shape my paine.
Fairer Vertue beauties iewel,
Bad mee not pronounce Loue cruel.
Loue that forc'd me to affect,
Beauties worth by Vertue deckt:


Then ô three of all the chiefe,
Ease at last my loathed griefe.

CVPIDS PALACE.

Paphos now a worthlesse name,
Wants the grace of wonted Fame.
Fishie Cuidus not frequented,
Samos highly discontented,
Discontented with the misse,
Of so great a former blisse,
Where from altars did arise,
Odors sweete, with louers cries:
Breathing sighes from hearts amaine,
Sad reporters of their paine.
Barraine be Idalian hill,
Vnadornd by Natures skill.
Dry be Acidalian spring,
Circled with no euening ring:
Of the Fairy wood-Nymphs tripping,
And on greene grasse lightly skipping,
Where sweete Amorets were chaunted,
While it was by goddesse haunted:
Be they of all bounties rest,
Sith they are by Venus left.
Loues coy queene forgetting quight,
Iles could yeeld her queint delight,
Deeming earthly mansions drosse,
Former solace, future losse,
Haunts the palace of her sonne,
Worke of wonder lately done:
Daily guest she there remaineth,
And of loue to Loue complaineth.
Now no more to rule she deignes,
Yoked Swans with siluer reines,


As she did from earth ascend,
(Earth which erst she did commend)
And returnd through liquide aire,
Gliding to Ioues royall chaire.
Vulcan staide from framing thunder,
That he might erect this wonder.
Wanton boy would neuer cease,
Wily mother grant no peace,
Till by this the strife were ended,
Feined strife by them pretended.
Top is close, the fourme is round,
Seated on an azure ground:
No doore seene, yet doores each-where,
Entries close, yet many there.
For one colour teinteth all,
Turrets, doores and gyring wall:
Clammy stuffe the colour beareth,
(Halfe white, halfe red hue it weareth)
Such as in Asphaltis lake,
Did Chaldæan workemen take:
For that high-entitled frame,
Honord with first Empires name:
On the top with triumphs fild,
Stockdoues mothers birds did build.
Right side was with windowes dight,
To receiue th'infused light:
Light so cleare, so bright, so faire,
As in clearest open aire.
There the roofes are rich embost,
Wals adornd with equal cost:
Workes engraude of queint deuise,
And enchasde with gemmes of price.
There his bow of beaten gold,
Worth a world of wealth vntold:
And shafts pointed with like mettle,
Wily wag thought meet to settle.


Pleasure gardian of this roome,
Author of each happie doome:
Loues Vicegerent on that side,
Vaunts the worth of heau'ns chiefe pride.
Fancies on her steps attend,
Such as do her fauours send,
Or affoord the fruites of pleasure,
When delight by loue they measure.
These serue when the god doth strike,
Both hearts with one shaft alike.
Not that one should sue in vaine,
And the other dart disdaine.
But a mutuall passion wrought,
In one sympathie of thought:
Or when hope of hap vnproued,
Plots the praise of things beloued.
Pyrocles such fancie knew,
Fancie giuing Loue his due,
Which did on Philoclea looke,
Bathing in a Christall brooke.
He disguisde a virgin seemd,
And his name was Zelmane deemd.
O how sweetly did he praise,
In those lines those louely laies,
All perfections in her planted?
For his pen no praises wanted.
Tresses of her Ambre haire,
Wauing in the wanton aire.
Rubie lips and corall chin,
Soft, smooth, Alablaster skin.
Angels iookes, hands lily white,
Eyes subduing at the sight.
Left side hath no windowes made,
Darker then Tartarian shade.
There was bowe of fatal yue,
Acting horrors that ensue,


And his arrowes with leade tipt,
Which in Stygian poole were dipt.
Sorrow keeps this seate of terror,
Mirthlesse hag the whelpe of error.
Fancies do on her attend,
Fancies which despaire do send:
When one shaft poore heart doth shiuer,
Drawne from loue-enforcing quiuer:
But a second tipt with lead,
Strikes affections vigor dead:
In an other heart not moued,
With remorse of paine vnproued.
These do on repulses muse,
And Loues rigor oft accuse.
And soft sounds like minutes breath,
Sighes by turnes from vnderneath.
But ô God the most diuine,
Sith Timocleas heart and mine
Were with equall wound opprest,
And with fairest Fancies blest:
End these sowres with sweete conclusion,
Least thy godhead seeme illusion.

The worth of Poesie.

Impute it not prophane impietie,
Dread god of Delos, and chaste virgin-troupe:
To him that, in vnpitied miserie
That doth enforce his wearied muse to stoupe,
And him all cheerlesse abiect-like to droupe,
Reueales those holie secrets of your hill,
That do concerne defence of depest skill.


Vnder the couert of a Laurell tree,
Vpon the mount where learned Muses dwel:
Rare monuments of worth enshrined bee,
The workes of Laureate pens, workes which excell,
Cherish'd by comfort of Castalian well:
There rest they safe: though safe, yet once assailde
By three mishaped elues, which fled and failde.
There laie enrolde in euerlasting lines,
Epique records wrapt in heroique stile:
There laie enclosde in those eternall shrines,
Sweete Hymns and Odes that lyriques did compile,
And Elegies, and Epigrams sharpe file,
With th'other graces of a laureate quill,
Whence hony sweets do copiously distill.
Pale enuy Beldame-like with staffe vpholding
Her cursed limbs, came first and tooke a sitting,
In lothsome signes her deadly teene vnfolding,
Neare to that hallowed place how il befitting,
How much annoyd through her contagious spitting,
T'infect the tree that did those branches nourish,
And kill the roote whose moisture fed their flourish?
From depth of poisnous mawe the monster fierce
Did belch foule gobbets with an hell of snakes,
Wallowing in lothsome filth, that did empierce
The teinted ground: Forthwith the Laurell shakes,
For whose decaie the hag that vomit makes,
Which sinking downe corrupted roote and all,
With Christall drops that from the spring did fall.
Soone as the erst-greene began to perish,
And witherd branches could no longer couer
Those antique rolles, or them with safetie cherish,
A second hag still darknesse silent louer:


Obliuion hight, slow hag did slily houer,
Suted in duskie robe of pitchie staine,
Like to an hanging cloude that threatens raine.
Well did this name of Lethe her beseeme,
Which oft forgot her selfe and her entent:
Eftsoone she staid, as doubting what to deeme:
Then forth she stept: nor long she forward went,
But staid againe, as musing what was ment.
But being come, she towards her gan rake
Those monuments, that prize her praie to make.
Then Ignorance that doth Arts glory blot,
Ran to the tree to get a Laurell wreath,
Before the branches by that fatal spot
Were wasted cleane, that rose from vnderneath:
Nor would she stop, nor did she stand to breath,
Till tree was toucht: thus did the sot desire,
The highest praise of laureate Poets hire.
She thought it meete her pupils to inuest
With lasting bay: and in that fairest place
To lodge their lines, where worthier workes did rest,
But when they were repulst with deepe disgrace,
She hirde those hags both glories to deface.
Those clues of horror which did yeeld their helpe,
The one despaires, the other darknesse whelpe.
O bane of blisse, gainst worthiest wits pretended,
O lucklesse lot ô iniurie of time:
Foule-fall the hags that such ill hap entended,
And haggish brood enuying honors prime:
When high-plum'd Muse through Empyre skies doth climbe:
And curses all which holy Poemes hold,
Light on the hags that stop those mines of gold.


O who could harbour such inhumane thought,
Though he Hircanian Tygres milke did sucke?
Heart more flint-hard then beating waues haue wrought
On sea-washt rockes, reward from arte would plucke,
And guerdonize desert with direst lucke.
Stand they good Gods dull stones ay-vnremoued,
That such despight by censure fell approued.
Fame gliding from on high did there alight,
Viewde their attempts, and rested on the tree:
The earth was circled with a glorious light,
(Such light as mortall eye could neuer see)
Forcing the elfe which had those hags in fee,
To troth with apish pace vnto some caue,
The halfe-lost vse of daseled eyes to saue.
The winged Goddesse moude with high disdaine,
So shrill a note from siluer trompet sounded,
That slowe obliuion posted thence amaine,
Whose eares that strange vnwonted noise confounded,
Eares where small helpe for memory was grounded.
Pale enuy fled surprizde with doubtfull feare,
Whose witherd cheekes with wrinckles furrowed were.
The filth boild vp: the leaues wexd greene againe:
The Lawrell flourisht in her former hue:
Fame bade Desert for euer there remaine
With light and sound, to shield a Poets due,
By safe defence from wrongs that might ensue.
Thus I record that future age may tell,
Loe this is he that wisht to Poets well.


The Hymne sung to Aeolus.

Most iust auenger of Arcadiaes wrong,
Dread God, high Regent of the worlds wide frame,
Enricht with titles of adored name,
To thee these rites, these honors do belong:
At whose dire frownes th' amazed earth hath trembled.
Patrone of harmelesse men in haplesse age,
Restrainer of thy furious seruants rage,
Accept th'intents of vs in zeale assembled.
Worker of wonders in the continent,
Prince of the aire, distinguisher of time:
The cālme relieuer of our troubled clime,
To thee these duties pure deuotion sent.
We celebrate as ancestors before vs,
With yearly thanks best fruites of swaines degree,
The miracle and mercies shewde by thee,
Which Countries natiue plentie didst restore vs.
And our succeeding progenie shall know
From fathers mouth, the debt which children owe.