University of Virginia Library

On the Amorous and pathetick story of Arcadius and Sepha, &c.

Lo here the Muse which to our eye discovers
The bleeding Fate of many haples Lovers;
What though his warbling lyre not gravely rings
With such deep notes as lofty CLIO sings,
His Muse is soft, as sweet, and though not strong,
Pathetick, lively, all on fire, and young,
Flowing with tears and smiles, and full of sport,
As fits the subject of fair VENVS Court,
And this may Court you to peruse his Book;
So oft i'th' streets with prompter eyes wee look
On lovely Girls who but their shooe-strings tye,
Than Wives, their Garters making fast more high.

On the exact and elabourate story of Arcadius and Sepha, and the rest of the Beavy of the Lovers

What brave young Man is this, whose lute doth lead
The dancing Rocks, and teach the Woods to tread?
Is Thracian Orpheus reviv'd, whose laye
Hath now charm'd Hell, to get himself away?
(Son of the Arts and Heav'n) our hearts we fill,
With joy and zeal to gratulate thy skill;
What fitting tributes shall we bring thee now,
To crown thy merits, and adorn thy brow;
For since thy harp to follow Trees are grac'd,
Bayes of themselvs unto thy Brows maks haste

An Epitaph on the deceased Author, in allusion to his Sonnets on Aurora.

Sad Lover, thou who to thy cruel Saint,
Didst teach thy Muse to breath thy last complaint,
Whilst thou the Ends that Sex aim'd at mad'st known,
Me thought I heard thee thus to speak thy own;
Lo here the Glory of all Womens pride,
The matchless Trophy of their Beauties might,
To kill by Treason, and hid fires provide
Those to devour whom they do most invite;
Poor injur'd ashes! you too late have try'd,
How ill they doe the gentlest hearts requite;
O that in Beauties should those flames be known,
Which burn our brests, yet never warm their own!

On the deathlesse Poems of the deceased Author.

Happy young Man, who though laid under ground,
Thy name to Honour a sure way hath found;
Thy chast Arcadius shall with Sepha live,
Whiles the kind Sun warmth to the Earth shal give,
And every Age shall take delight to see
Fair Hæmon met with fair Antigone;
Whiles thankfull Rivers to the Seas make hast
Eramioes and Amissaes love shall last;
No more shall Phaon by contempt be led,
But foot to foot shall now with Sappho tread,
And Delithasons youth, and chast desires
Shall keep more warm his fair Veristaes fires;
Thus whilst that thou with thy immortall layes,
Beauty, and Love, and Innocence dost praise,
That praise which thou to others worths dost lend,
Doth make thy own high as the Stars ascend.

On these laboured Poems of the deceased Authour, Mr. William Bosworth.

These bleeding Lovers, and unstaind desires,
Their undry'd tears, & their religious fires,
And their Stars sullen malice, which did bend
Their lives and loves to an untimely end,
May bring the pious Reader with perfumes
Of flowr's and sighs to worship at their tombs
And their high flames admire; But ô forbear
That hasty zeal, and do not tread too near,
For know the flames so ardent were that burn'd
Their suffering hearts, and them to ashes turn'd,
That by your sighes they may too soon be blown
Into new life, and fet on fire your own.

The Booke to the Reader.

Reader,

Arcadius and Sepha.

THE HISTORIE OF Arcadius and Sepha.

Liber Primus.

So much for this now for the cause we weep,
(Fair Lady) know Bacchus is fall'n asleep.
The nature of the Spring we have declar'd,
So have you of Dianas battell heard;
At this she sigh'd, and as she gently praid
For some revenge, the Satyres grew affraid;
The winds spoke loud, Dian in choler burn'd,
And each of them cleaving to trees, she turn'd
To Ivie, whence it still is twinding found,
And Bacchus nurses are with Ivie crown'd.
Thus Fortune, (whose continuall wheely force,
Keeps constant course, still keeps unconstant course)
Bequeath'd her harme; and Sepha with amaze,
Tript o're the plains towards that sacred place,
Casperia nam'd, and as she thus did hie,
Trust me Arcadius came riding by,
He look't on Sepha, oh what good it wrought
To her, who with her earnest eyes besought,
One ravisht word to ope those lips, but they
Lurkt still in glories garden as they lay.
At this she sigh'd, ô how she sigh'd at this,
Farwell said she, and if I needs must miss
Of these fair hopes, yet shall my tender mind
Accuse thee not, thy horse did prove unkind,
To carry thee so fast; thus with this thought,
And such like meditations, she was brought
Vnto the Temple now with Roses strew'd,
Then to the altar with sweet balm bedew'd;
Where when the Rites and Ceremonies done,
She read this superscription was thereon.
Those that Idalia's wanton garments wear,
No Sacrifices for me must prepare;
To me no quav'ring string they move
Nor yet Alpæan musick love,
Theres no perfume
Delights the room,
From sacred hands,
My Altar stands
Void and defac't,
While I disgrac't,
With angry eyes
Revenge the cryes
Of you who to my Altar hast,
And in my lawes take your repast;
Pursue it still, the chief of my pretence
And happiness, shall be your innocence.
After sh'had read what vile reproach and stain
Her Queen indur'd, what just cause to complain
Hung on her brest, by an aspersion thrown
Vpon her Damsells glories, and her own,
She sighes, and through enough and too much sorrow,
Disdaines to live, for true love hates to borrow
Art to bewail mishap, and as she fainted,
Alas too much unfit, and unacquainted
With grief, she sighing said with swelling eye,
The root depriv'd of heat, the branches dye.
Then gan her sense to play the Tragick part
Of Fate, and Atropos joy'd in her art.
Each thing she saw (as all were proud t'advance
Themselves to her fair eyes) now seem'd to dance,
And turning round, the Temple where she stood,
To her wet eyes presented a pale flood.
While she with scrambling hands seeking to take
Hold lest she fell, fell down into that Lake,
Where strugling still, with many pretty dint
Her curious hand did give the earth a print,
For Sepha's sake, which print the earth still keeps,
Of which wee'l speak a while, while Sepha sleeps.
A foolish Prince (not wise because he vow'd

The story of Eramio and Amissa.

Virginity to dwell within a cloud)
And so much honor to her did ascribe,
Many had thought he had receiv'd a Bribe
To vaunt her praise, and Laurellize her name,
His mouth and he were Trumpets to her fame.
I say a Maiden Prince was lately there,
Whose custome was twice five times ev'ry year,
Cloth'd all in white, and stain'd with spots of black,
A yellow ribond ty'd along his back,
To offer Turtle doves with silver plumes,
And strew the place with Aromatick fumes.
He was a Prince, born of a royall blood,
And being nobly born, was nobly good;
Nor onely good he was, but stout and wise,
(Save that this fond opinion vail'd his eyes,)
Else he in ev'ry action was upright,
And free from vice, as sorrow from delight.
Of Courage good, for valour oft had bound
His Temples up, and them with Laurell crown'd.
Beauty lay lurking in his Magick face,
Worthy of praise since it chose such a place;
Those ruddy lips, those cheeks so heav'nly fair,
Where Love did play the wanton with his hair,
Did witnesse it, and witnesse this his line,
I found ingraven ore his golden shrine,
By some beloved hand, whose pen doth speak,
(Though willingly his praise alas to weak.
Lo here he lies, inshrind with his own some,
Whose virtue's gone abroad to tell his name.
This Prince returning home by those dim lights,
After he had perform'd the sacred rites
Of his pure zeal, for night came peeping on,
Whose sable face had thrust the weary Sun
Beyond the Northern Pole, whether it was
To hide her fault, and bring his end to passe;
Or whether twas to view his sacrifice,
She stealing came, or t'keep him from the eyes
Of those destroyers that about did gather
To steal his life, or hast distruction rather,
To me tis not reveal'd, but sure it is,
To sure alas, Conspicuous fate was his.
Could Heaven permit the deed? or give consent,
(Who should be just) to the accomplishment
Of this nefarious act? could Phæbus eye
Be dazled so, or yield a sympathy
To this rebellious inhumanity?
Better had he renounc't the vowes he made,
And spent his days under some gloomy shade;
Better had he in flowry fields abide,
And lead his flock by purling Rivers side;
Better had he bestrid the fomy waves,
Where Pactolus his weary body laves;
Yea better far he nere had been allide
To Dian's Laws far better had he dy'd.
And die he did, did death commit a sinne?
No, yet when first his arrows doe begin
Vntimely death to force, tis often said,
His sulphur breath hath the sweet spring decaid.
He was but young, the girdle of the year,
By which our humane actions do appear,
And so we live and dye, had nere imbrac't
Thrice three times twice his young and tender wast,
Scarce could he stand upon the joyfull ground,
And crop those blushing cherries which he found
Vpon their infant trees, yet envious eye,
Conspir'd to end his perpetuity.
And thus it was, as young Eramio came
From Dians temple (for so was his name)
Amissa, who had oft desir'd to free
Her brest of that hell-knawing jealousie
By her conceiv'd, for this Amissa had
Bin with the beauty of Eramio clad,
In a supreme desire towards his love,
Oft with her letters did she strive to move,
With Cupids lawes him to retain alliance,
Till he, who scorn'd obedience gave defiance.
This could not cool that heat which had inspir'd
A longing hopes to that which he desir'd,
She sighs, and weeps; she sighs and laughs, she cryes,
And in a rage doth heave towards the skyes
Her feeble hands, she studies how to tempt
Him to her lure, (lovers are oft exempt
Of modesty) and in a rage doth go
Towards her inke, (as lovers use to doe)
And frames this letter, which I chanc'd to meet,
Ah me, twas young Eramio's winding sheet.

Amissa to Eramio.

I heard how elder times enjoy'd the bliss
Of uncouth love, Fame the Historian is,
Men whose heroick spirits scorn to bend
Their gallant necks to any servile hand,
Whose beauty could command as noble eyes,
I, and as many as these Azure skies
E're shew'd thy face, to view with a desire
Their glorious parts, and viewing to admire;
Yet these in whom each God have plac d an eye,
To make a shrill and pleasant harmony
Of all their glories in one sound alone,
Yet these so far have their affection shown,
With sword and lance to make their faith approv'd,
Though as thy self not half so well belov'd.
How canst thou then disdain this humble sute
Of a pure love? how can thy pen be mute?
Many detesting love, and scorn his name,
Yet with their pens will certifie the same
By answer, that they may that harm prevent
Of future hopes, for Silence gives Consent.
Shall still unkindness overflow the brim?
Leander did to fairest Hero swim,
But I must come my self, and void of good
To strengthen me, must make my tears the flood,
And when I come, thy Tower so fast is barr'd,
Thy suppliants weak complaint will not be heard;
What is the cause thou dost affection scorn?
Shall base contempt those lovely browes adorn?
Am I too mean? look what I want of it,
So much my loyall love shall make me fit.
Let not thy thoughts accuse me cause I sue,
For true love clad with vertue needs must wooe;
Nor let thy Answer show I am refus'd,
But use me now ev'n as thou would'st be us'd.
This mov'd Eramio much, who (worthy Knight,)
As ignorant as free from Loves delight,
Like purling Quails, who ev'n now are secure,
With pleasant tunes are train'd unto the lure
Of the deceitfull fowler, so was he
As this his Answer will a witness be.

Eramio to Amissa.

(Faire Queen) that favour which you pleas to give
To my unworthinesse, shall make me live
Renoun'd, when so much love you do bequeath,
Blown by the bellowes of your flowry breath,
Shall fold me in your armes, do not conceave
Twas scorn, or want of love that made me leave
My Answer untill now, Amissa no,
And 'mongst your other vertues please to know,
Twas that excessive humble love I had,
That would not linke your honour to so bad,
This faire Amissa saw, what sweet content
To her it brought, let those whose time is spent
On Cupids Study know, the same I leave
To them alone, let them alone conceave.
It was not long (though lovers think it long)
E're young Eramio went, (new love is strong)
To see Amissa, where ('tis open said)
There was a private contract 'twixt them made;
This being nois'd, (as Fame will quickly spred)
Amongst his friends, how fondly he was led
By loves Alarms, with letters they did strive
Dianas holy fiers to revive
Within his brest, and that to love alone,
From Venus free, whereof this letter's one.

Fluentus to Eramio.

Be not so serious, striving to commend
The blaze of Beauty, sometimes let a friend
Partake of your well tuned notes of worth
Which solely to your self you warble forth,
In some retired shade, do not adore
A boy for God, let others harms before,
By his deceit, make you at last be wise,
It was for something Cupid lost his eyes.
Love is a thing deceitfull, and will charm,
The wounded heart unto a further harm,
Such are th'allurements of the boy, to stain
The vertuous mind and make destruction plain.
What desp'rate ends to many do ensue,
And in their blood their guilty hands imbrew,
To thee 'tis known, let them a warning move,
If thou desir'st continuance of our love.
Even this Eramio read, and being mov'd,
In that his friends despise him cause he lov'd,
In loves excuse whose arrowes he did kiss,
He sate a while, and then returned this,

Eramio to Fluentus.

Rapt with Ambrosian favours of her love
I well may serious strive, when Tempe grove
Delights so much to whisper forth the prayse,
Of my sweet love, with Heliconian lays.
How can my Muse be dumb? or cease to sing
Of faire Amissa? when each silver spring
And cooling arbor to report her fame,
Dictates my Muse in ecchoing back her name;
If she but daigns to beautifie the aire
With her sweet breath, her golden knotted haire
Receives a thousand complements of love,
From wanton Zephirus, enough to move
Conceiv'd delights, so joys he when he finds
How much her Nectar-breath perfumes the winds.
If she but coverts in Pathimne bours,
To hide her from those sweet distilling showrs
That come to kiss her from their cloudy throne
Of vapour'd mists, those Pearls finding her gone
Lament and die, when they have lost the sweet
They mist, yet some will stay to kiss her feet.
Why will you then disswade me from that chase
I have begun, when ev'ry private place
Records her praise? nor think I am so stupid
In stead of higher powers to honour Cupid;
In all things ther's a mean, I will be warnd
By others harms, for since I have been scorn'd
By some, the next shall teach me to be wise,
And shame mishap; poor Cupid lost his eyes,
By gazing so much on the love I honour,
That all the eyes he had he spent upon her.
Glad is Amissa when my Muse repeats
Her friendly looks, and then again her threats,
Gainst those that bid me cease to tell her blisses,
Sweeter than life, and half so sweet as kisses.
If therefore serious friendship may advise you,
On still, for if you cease, your love denyes you;
And if another chance to see her face,
Take heed, twill draw him on to win the race.
Which when Fluentus read, and fully found
The depth of his affection, and his wound,
This he return'd,

Fluentus to Eramio.

Receive with this my thanks, and prosp'rous fate
To your proceedings, love instead of hate,
Kindness for coyness, Venus sweet embrace,
And Iuno's kiss, with all the pomp and grace
That Hymen can afford, then joyfull I,
Will come and sing your Epithalamy.
Thus far my wishes, but if counsell may
Be took as kindly, boldly then I say,
Trust not the winds, they are as false as fleet;
As fleet as am'rous, kissing all they meet,
Without exception: Be not credulous,
What Groves doe whisper is suspicious;
Ask but Narcissus, and he will declare,
Eccho's a wanton, onely empty air,
That doth but mock, the mists you say that meet
To court your love, do but bemire her feet,
And not adorn them, Temp, and the groves
Are now forsook of shady leaves, and loves;
Flora for shame resideth in the earth,
Vntill the Spring doe give her a new birth.
In speculation of your Mistris eyes,
If Cupid lost his sight in any wise,
Beware of yours, for so it well befits,
Lest with your eyes you also lose your wits.
Cupid they say's a God, and dares commence
A sute with Jove, Apollo had no fence
Against his weapon; Thus conclude I then,
If Gods do fail, there are no hopes in men.
Reflect on this, you say you have bin scorn'd
By some, therefore take heed you be not horn'd
By others, for this Proverb is both known
And true, an evill seldome comes alone.
Run not too fast, although you see her face,
(Love will beguile, Iove did a cloud imbrace,)
Lest when with pain you traverst have the ground,
You win a prize is better lost than found.
Eramio stood amaz'd, so quick a change
Should hurl about occasions to so strange
An intercepted plot: O Heav'ns said he,
Can this delusion spring from Amity?
From enmity it comes, Fluentus knows
A true affected heart admits no shows
Of wav'ring thoughts, to cloak a reall sign
Of occult things, of harmonies divine:
The world I know, ev'n as the dwellers use it,
Is pregnant full of sinners that abuse it.
But let them live, while I in faith involv'd,
Fluentus, doe by this make thee resolv'd.

Eramio to Fluentus.

Reports of Gratulations to retain
Me for your vowed servant are but vain,
For prosperous gales may drive me more your debtor
Through Neptunes fomie floods, to love you better
For this pretext, Epithalamium like,
The mirror of which influence doth strike,
That Epithesis to my humid sense,
That young Leander like, I banish hence
Foolish dispaire, when such an easy price,
Favour'd by love, may win a merchandise,
Richer than Cholchos pride, such power and force,
Have your Platonick lines, to make a course,
That once seem'd tedious, when it was begun,
Pleasant and short to those that needs must run.
Thus far my thanks, your counsell being had
Kindly, and seriously, of one as glad
As may be, when he finds a friend will say,
And botch his lines, to make an hower a day;
Trust me the winds are not so false as fleet,
Nor amorous, nor kiss they all they meet
Without exception, those be foolish winds,
Which Bores like blusters on all it finds.
There is indeed a breath that takes delight
With his obdurate busses to affright
Chaldei met, come from Lavinium dales
In love's disgrace, but these are not the gales
My Muse reports of, tis a pleasing aire,
Which only sits, and nestles in the haire
Of my dear love, which like a feth'red rain,
Circuits the Globe and thither comes again,
Witness the heads of those Aeolin streams,
Whose bubling currents murmur forth the dreams
Of Nymphs, and Satyres, which acount the groves
The ardent Salopia for their loves.
Ardent Narcissus mist the love he sought,
Yet, foolish boy, what ere he wisht he caught,
He lov'd himself, and when himself he misses,
The eccho's mock him for his foolish wishes,
(Amidst such Hero and such Thisban choices)
Thrusting him farther with their wanton voices,
To deeper griefs, mounted on th'highest tops
Dispair could grant; those clear and silver drops,
Which only lingred time to kiss she sweet,
The innocent, the pure, and heavenly feet
Of my faire love, amaz'd him to behold,
For what they touch't they straitway turn'd to gold;
For shame Queen Flora daigns not to appeare,
Abash't to see a fairer Flora here;
Nor Cynthia did more chastity embrace
Than she, nor Venus a more lovely face,
Whose radient eyes that kindle Cupids fire,
Are Cos amoris, whetstones of desire.
Then strive not this intire knot to undoe,
For I can love thee and Amissa too.
This by the one wrot, by the other read,
Stopt Letters mouthes, and sudden Parly bred,
In which dispute Eramio did haste
To publish proofs, but in his proofs was cast.
O dear Fluentus, said Eramio,
In whom my soul revives, by this I know
Thou art upright; so will I be upright,
No more the wicked boy shall taint my sight
With his deluding parables, I hate
His idle lawes, and at as high a rate
Esteem Diana's worship, as before
I ever did, and her alone adore;
And will you then neglect that lovely chase,
(Fluentus said) you so much did imbrace?
I will said he, and if Eramio live,
No more I will my youth and honour give
To foolish love; Idalia's son I bid
Thy laws adue; and so indeed he did.
Which when his love, the faire Amissa knew,
How all her wished joys abortive grew,
She watch't a time, even as Eramio came
From sweet Casperia, Dian's sacred flame,
And there by force, love conquering did move her,
By force to make Eramio her lover.
Eramio starts, mistrusting even as reason
Her self would do some new intended treason.
What cause said he hath urg'd you to this plot,
Against my life, (ye men) I know ye not?
About to strike, the faire Amissa cryes,
O hold thy blow, for if thou strik'st she dies
Whose death thou seek'st. And came the cause from thee
Eramio said? let this thy glory be
Thou worst of Women, that thou hast receiv'd
Thy death from him, whose hand hath thee bereav'd
Of a polluted soul; when thou shalt come,
'Fore Rhadamanth there to receive thy doom
For this last act, lament thy self, and houl,
In that thou hast been tainted with so foul
An ignominious stain; could thy base heart
Permit fruition to this dev'lish art
Of base conspiracy? O hel-bred evill!
Hatch't by infernall potions of that Devill
Father to thee, and thine; had I suppos'd,
So faire a frame as thine could have inclo'd
Such hatefull guess within, or had I thought
Thy often flatt'ring messages had wrought
By that black art, from which this harm proceeds,
Or such faire beauty could have mask'd such deeds,
Long since thy soule to that black Cave had fled
Of envious night, and I snatch'd from thy head
Those glorious Anadems thou us'd to wear,
Chaplets of curious flowers I did prepare
For thy bewitching browes, O how I hate
My wicked star, my too too envious fate;
I hate the time that did induce desire
Of love, I hate the fewel caus'd the fire,
I hate my eyes too credulous and kind,
To thy false heart, that strikes thy beauty blind.
And which more honour from thy brest discovers,
To give example to young foolish lovers;
I vow by heaven, and all the powers there be
Therein, I hate my self for loving thee.
His words half spoke Cyandus daughter cryes,
Is this the meed of zealous love? and dyes.
For young Eramio in this plot deceav'd,
Vp from the ground the massie stone had heav'd,
Borne by the fury of a Tyrannous spite,
And as his present anger did invite,
Hurl'd it amongst them, heard you not the sounds,
Of strugling vialls powring from their wounds
Consumed oyle? Amissa's feeble heart
Paying untimely death for his wish't dart
Its purest streams, but lo a sudden change,
Wrought by inspired miracles doth range
There deep amased eares, amidst the throngs
Of their shrill cryes were heard Elisian songs,
Like those when Iove his Ganimed had stole,
Granting a pleasant convoy to her soul.
Her soul and body gon those Heav'ns to grace,
As too too worthy for this sordid place;
Her heart to manifest the cleer complection
Of her upright, of her unstain'd affection,
Was metamorphos'd to a Diamont,
Which so th'afflicted lover did affront
With visions, dreams, and such like signs, to move
A good conceit of her unspotted love.
Hold, hold, said he, let my revenge alone,
The Gods have wayes enowe, if once but shown,
The time will come, when Venus will inspire
Into each scornfull brest tormenting fire,
By nought to be extinguisht, for I know,
If Poets can divine, it must be so;
It must be so, and those who now deride
Her holy laws, and have too much reli'd
Vpon the foolish worships of the Queen
Of Chastity, whose power is still unseen,
Ev'n as I am, so will I alwayes pray,
Shall be perplext a thousand times a day;
This hand, (curst be this hand, and every hand
That rescu'd me, and helpt me to withstand
That glorious yoke my neck should daily move
Vnder Amissa's too respective love.)
This hand no more shall sprinkle the perfume
Of Frankinsence, in Dian's hallowed room,
But if it ever an oblation make,
To any Altar, or doe e're partake
In any solemn sacrificers vow,
More zeal and honor shall appear in mine,
Amissa, it shall be upon thy shrine.
These words were stopt, by Menothantes Father,
Who to revenge his Sisters death, but rather
To quit his stock of an abusive crime
Was laid upon the Worthies of the time,
Suppos'd, though false by him, (whereof you have
In this portraite a Copy, which I leave
To your chast eyes, in hope you will permit
A charitable censure over it,
For sweet Eramio's sake) old Pæans son,
Striving to perfect what he had begun,
(To which his bloody heart had bin inur'd)
With his invenom'd dart a death procur'd
To young Eramio, who sighing said,
See, see, unhappy fate hath me betraid.
But while speaks, he to Amissa goes,
Invokes the powers to pardon him, and throws
His body on the blood-besprinkled ground,
Where, when distilling tears had washt her wounds,
Ay me, said he, that this doth us betide,
So kist into her lips his soul, and dy'd.
So much the Cretan lad, with weeping voice
Had told, and was about to tell the rest;
But lest said he (Ladies) the heavy noise
Of her mishap, should your chast ears molest,
A while give respite to my tongue, that I
May gather strength to end her Tragedy.

Liber Secundus.

I told you (Ladies) if your tender hearts
Admit attention, while my tongue imparts
Such heavie newes, how young Eramio came
With yearly incense, to the hallow'd fame
Of the Alphæan worship, and how fate
Abridg'd his life with nights eternall date.
I told you also (leaving her asleep)
How Sepha's eyes ore-charg'd with tears did weep,
And as she swounded how her curious hands
Did give the earth a print, which print still stands,
To keep her fame alive, but what it was,
Through too much grief my tongue did overpass,
As fit'st, it seems, to be inserted here,
That as my heavy story doth draw neer
Towards her end, so her immortall praise,
Rap't in her sweet Encomions may raise
Conjugall tears from each distilling eye,
Whose praise and fame shall them accompany
With her harmonious voice, I mean the love
Her soul will powr upon them from above.
And that her eyes may make all sighs the fairer,
Her soul will smile to see the love they bare her.
The spices which Eramio had strew'd
About the altar, her wet eyes bedew'd
With sorrowing tears, which daily they did cast
Vpon the same, and made thereof a paste;
Like those congealed clouds which some have given
A glorious title, call'd the walls of Heaven.
So Sepha falling, fell upon the same,
From whose fair hand that fair impression came,
By some swift Savo call'd, for many say
From thence Campanian Savo took her way,
And there it is where each Campanian maid,
For yearly offerings her vow hath paid
With the Medean draughts, t'revive the fame
Of Sepha dead; Savo from Sepha came:
But that's not all, the print whereof I spake,
Though some affirm 'tis, yet 'tis not a Lake.
For if the spices which Eramio cast,
Dry'd up her tears, and thereof made a paste,
How can a Lake ensue? but this is sure,
There was a corner of the altar pure
From any blot, on this Eramio laid
His Aromatick spices as he praid.
This being turn'd into a past by those
Distilling eyes (which dying seldome close,)
The palm of her fair hand did gently press
The yeelding paste, and as she up it reard,
Like a triangled heart the print appeard,
The fingers standing just upon the heart,
Presented Cupids shafts, which he doth dart
On simple souls, from whence ensues the bloud,
The blood being gon, came that Campanian flood;
Thus palm and fingers having shown the love
By Cupids net intangled, strait did move
T'another form no figure there was seen,
While yet they gaze upon't, the place grows green;
At this they stare, at this a flower up-starts,
Which still presents the form of wounded hearts.
This being seen by Nymphs that haunt the Springs,
Each took a slip, it to their Mansion brings,
Where being set, it's now in every grove,
A pretty flower, and call'd the Lady-glove.
Now let me tell of Sepha, and her hap
That did ensue, while she in Fortunes lap
Lies lull'd asleep, (sleep had her sense bereav'd)
(And chiefly for the love she had conceiv'd
Of her Arcadius) bethinking hard,
Either he is of charity debarr'd,
Or linkt t'anothers virtue, and surmising
Hee's not to be imbrac'd; waking and rising,
She found her self by him to be imbrac't,
Who, being present at her fall, did haste
To hale her breath again; those eyes that wrought
Confusion first, now more confusion brought;
Having Arcadius kist, she thinks some dream
Deludes her wandering sense, in which extream
Rapt with conceit of this her present good,
Her greedy eyes with ardent wishes woo'd,
That Heaven, in which her present hopes remain'd
A worlds continuance, and she had obtain'd
What she desir'd, had not the winged boy
Vnbent his bow, with period of their joy.
Yet something to her hopes he did admit,
To whet the heavy sacrificers wit;
While young Arcadius with trembling hand,
Felt how the pulse, as if at Deaths command,
Sounded a loud Alarm; fair Heav'n said he,
In whom all grace and vertues planted be,
Why will you suffer that

grief.

infernall hound?
To dare to come, to give this heart this wound?
Vse that celestiall power, the powerfull Gods
Have giv'n, that grief and you may live at odds.
I know those eyes, one wink from those fair eyes
Have power to banish hence all miseries
Are incident to man so rare a gift
Did nature find, when onely but this shift
T'amaze spectators she for you had left,
For know when Nature fram'd you she befreft
The world of all perfections, to make
You of divine, and Heav'nly good partake,
As well as humane, that there might agree
In you, of every grace a sympathy.
So said, the blushing damsell with delight
Of this new friend, did with her eyes requite
His too soon ended speech, O Heav'ns she said,
That have respect to me unworthy maid,
And daigne this good to me so oft desir'd,
Direct me so, that e're I have expir'd
This perfect bliss, and am depriv'd the same,
I may enjoy the knowledg of his name.
Grant this (ye Gods) to me, impatient, till
I know his naame, his Countrey, and his will.
Then did she pull her scarf from off her face,
And putting by her hair with that sweet grace,
That Venus us'd, when to Adonis eyes
She did expose her love, Sepha did rise
With such sweet looks as cannot be exprest,
And said, these favors Sir, and sigh'd the rest.
Well, thought Arcadius, something there remains,
And tis some weighty cause that it detains,
(Grant Heav'n) that as I hope, so it may prove,
By her unpollisht sentence to be love.
For he in dreams and visions oft had seen
A Lady, who for him alone had been
Tortur'd a thousand wayes, with blubbred cheeks,
She oft had said, receive her love, who seeks
No other life, than for thy owne deserts
T'enjoy thy presence, and admire thy parts.
She being now recover'd sate her down
To view Arcadius, whom the Priest did crown
With wreaths of Lawrell, which he alwayes wore
For the upright affection that he bore.
Then to the Altar went he, where he praid,
While Sepha overcome with passion, said,
So loud that he might hear, were I the Saint
To whom he prayes, sure I would hear his plaint.
At this Arcadius look't upon her lips,
And blest them that they let that message slip;
Then with his pure devotion onward goes,
[OMITTED] and on the Altar throwes
A winged heart, which lately he had got
For sacrifice, about the heart was wrote
These next insuing lines.
The purest peice of Mans delight,
In whom his life, and Love consists,
Whose softness keeps from gloomy night,
Which nought can peirce, but Amatysts
Is here presented on thy Throne.
Bedew'd with tears of faithfull vowes,
Presenting thee what is thy own,
The best to please thy virgin browes,
To fan thy face with her cool wings,
And fly the faster as she sings.
Which I by chance,
The better his sad story to advance,
Have Copi'd forth; about the wings there was
Some other Lines, which I will not let 'pass,
That (Gentle Ladies) ye may not have cause,
Of his devotion to detract th'applause.
Fly swift my thoughts, and through this sacred fire,
Mount up to her, let her to me retire,
That by those sweet distilling drops above,
She may infuse to me religious love,
So may I live, and scape the Dart,
While her sweet breath saivs up my heart,
And flourish like those Flowers it fills
With Nectar sweet, which one frown kils,
First let Voluptas weep,
And Gloria fall asleep,
Castalion liquor's free,
Medea bitter bee,
E're I forsake
Thy praise to make,
Or yet deny
Thy pietie.
These and the like Arcadius presents,
Mingled with deep, and choice perfuming sents
Of many bitter sighs, he turnd him round,
Salutes the Priest, the Altar, and the ground
Whereon it stood then to faire Sepha turns,
Who while her heart with strange affection burns,
Meets him with nimble eyes, he gently bends
A Trembling Cringe to Sepha, who attends
With her impatient eares that happy houre,
When the wish't Sun shall show that gracious flower
She loves unknowne, till a sigh doth bewray,
As if the prologue for a following play,
These next ensuing words, and such they were,
They did requite the time she stayd to hear.
Harpocrates may clame a vow I made,

The God of Silence.

(Faire Lady) under his beloved shade;
When my insipient years too too blame,
With rash attempts to Lauralize the fame
Of Cupids power, invested that disgrace,
Which still should be a shadow to my face.
Then, cause one way did lead to both their Towers,
He took hir Magick hand, and with whole showers
Of tears first washt them, then with a faint kiss,
Dri'd them, and walking homeward told her this.

The story of Phaon and Sappho.

In Lesbos famous for the comick layes,
That us'd to spring from her o'reflowing praise,
Twice famous Sappho dwelt the fairest maid
Mitelin had, of whom it once was said
Amongst the Gods, a sudden question was,
If Sappho, or Thalia did surpass
In Lyribliring tunes, it long remaind,
Till Mnemosyne the Mother was constrain'd,
To say they both from her begetting sprang,
And each of th'others warbling Lyra sang.
There was a Town in Lesbos, now defac'd,
Antissa nam'd, by Neptunes arms imbrac'd;
There Sappho had a Tower, in it a grove
Bedeck'd with pearls, and strew'd about with love;
Leucothean branches overspred the same,
And from the shadowes perfect odors came.
To dress it most there was a purple bed,
All wrought in works, with azure mantles spred,
The tables did unspotted carpets hold
Of lyrian dyes, the edges fring'd with gold.
Along this grove there stealing ran a Spring,
Where Sappho tun'd her Muse, for she could sing
In golden verse, and teach the best a vain
Beyond the musick of their sweetest straine.
Here while she sang, a ruddy youth appear'd,
Drawn by the sweetness of the voice he heard,
Sing on said he (fair Lady) let not me,
Too bold, give period to your melody.
Nor blame me for my over bold attempt,
(Although I yeeld of modesty exempt
In doing this) and yet not over bold,
For who so hears the voice, and doth behold
The lips from whence it comes, would be as sad
As I, and trust me Lady if I had
But skill to tempt you with so sweet a touch,
Assure you, you your selfe would doe as much.
She answers not, for why the little God
Had touch'd her heart before, and made a rod
For one contempt was past, she view'd him hard,
Whose serious looks made Phaon half affeard
She was displeas'd, about to goe she cryes,
Stay gentle Knight, and take with thee the prize,
To thee alone assur'd; the boy look'd pale,
But strait a ruddy blush did make a veil
T'obscure the same; while thus he panting stood,
A thousand times he wisht him in the Wood
From whence he came, and speaking not a word,
Let fall his hat, his javelin and his sword.
She being young, and glad of an occasion,
Stoopt down to take them up; he with perswasion
Of an half shewing love, detains her hand
From it, and with his fingers made the band
To chain them fast, (now Love had laid his scean)
And draw'd the tragick plot, whereon must lean
The ground of all his Acts; (great Deity)
When thy foreseeing nove-sight can descry
Things which will hap, why dost thou train their love
With pleasant musick to deceitfull groves?
See how the love of some with equall weight,
By vertue poiz'd, live free from all deceit,
To whom thou help'st with thy beloved darts,
And link'st their true inviolable hearts,
Why deal'st not so withall? are some too hard?
Or hath inchanted spells their hearts debarr'd
From thy keen shafts? you Powers should be upright
Not harmfull Gods yet thou still tak'st delight
In bloody ends, why did'st not wink at these?
And send thy shafts a thousand other wayes
That more deserv'd thy anger? or if needs
Thou would'st be doing, while thy power proceeds
In lofty flames one flame requires another.
Why did'st thou wound the one, and not the other?
For (Lady) so it past between the lovers,
That after little pause Sappho discovers
Those kindled flames which never can expire,
But his contempt adds fuell to her fire.
Immodest Girl he said, why art so rude
To woo? when vertuous women should be woo'd,
And scarce obtain'd by wooing, O forbeare,
Sweet Sappho cry'd, if I do not prepare
A just excuse by none to be deny'd,
Never let me—so sate her down and cry'd.
He mov'd for pity more to see her tears,
Than toucht with any loyall love he bears,
Sate down by her, while she dispairing, laid
Her eyes on his, her hands on his, and said,
Ay me, that herbs for love no cure afford,
Whose too too jealous actions will accord
To nought but semblable desire, that lost,
What pain more vile than lovers that are crost
With hopeles hopes? they say'ts a God that works
The same, but sure some Devill tis that lurks
His opportunity how to destroy,
And tear the Soul from her aspiring joy.
Now to prevent occasions that may fall,
Is serious love, which will all harms appall,
Neglect whereof by many is deplor'd,
Ay me! that herbs for love no cure afford!
Now for the fault wherof I am accus'd,
O blame me not, for 'tis no fault I us'd;
For if affection spurs a man to love,
Tis that affection needs must make him move
His sute to us, and wee, when we affect,
And see the like from them, seem to neglect
Their scorned sute, but so our frowns appear,
Mixt with a faint desire, and carefull fear
It should displease them, that we may unite,
A carelesse love, with an intire delight.
Again, when men doe see a curious stone,
The onely hopes of their foundation,
How often doe they slight with scornfull eye,
Neglect, disgrace, dispraise, and spurn it by?
The more to move and stir up an excesse
Of disrespect, and make the value lesse.
Even so we handle men, who still endure
A thousands deaths, to train us to their lure,
And were we sure they could not us forsake,
Wee'd dally more, even more delight to make.
Even so as men are caught, even so are we,
When we affect those that our service flee;
What kind salutes, imbraces and constraints
Ought we to use? lest our untun'd complaints
Vnpitied die, and we with sorrows scope,
As free from pleasure die, as free from hope.
Thou art a stranger Phaon to this place,
But I have known thy name, and know thy race,
Eumenion stories do thy honor tel,
Istria Eumenion knew thy Parents well,
Whose Fathers head upheld the weighty Crown
Of Illyris, which none could trample down,
Though many envi'd, free from harm he laid
His bones to rest, with whom the Crown decay'd.
Now fate to shew a modell of her power,
On thy Illyricum began to lower;
Thy Houshold Gods, acquainted with the cryes
Of thy decaying subjects, cast their eyes
This way, and that, twas yours O Gods to bid
Deniall to sedition that was hid
In Catelinian brests, and to surcease
The period of your domestick ease.
In this uprore (what fruits seditions bring
May well be guest, for every one was King)
The better sort prepar'd for thee and thine
A waftage over the beloved Rhyne
To Lesbos this; thou hadst not long bin here,
But private envy did thy walls uprear,
And did beguile to all posterity
Thee of thy glory, and the Crown of thee.
These things thy houshold Gods (to Lesbos brought)
Foreseeing good, have for thy own good wrought,
That thou maist gain a greater Crown than that
Illyrius had, and be more honor'd at
Those Festivalls, when yearly thou partak'st
Of Triumphs, which to Chimney Gods thou mak'st.
This was a work divine, and happy too,
(If any happiness from grief ensue)
That thou wast here conceal'd, for many vow'd,
And thundred forth the fame thereof aloud,
Of thy ensuing death, while thou wast still
In pupill age, and knew'st, nor did'st no ill,
But 'twas the Providence of you that dwell
In lofty Heav'ns (ye Powers) and to expell
All harm from him who must your Lawes maintain,
That when his perfect strength he doth obtain,
He may reward their deeds that envy bred,
And maugre those that to rebellion led.
Here wast thou brought, here hast thou daily staid,
And (while thy better subjects sought thee) plaid
Beguiling time away; perhaps you'd know,
What mov'd the powers to permit thee so
Vntimely ruine, know they did anoint
Thee King of famous Lesbos, and appoint
This means alone to make their power approv'd,
And bring thee here of me to be belovd.
To this faint speech he intermission made
With heavy sighs, and then (fair Lady) said,
The Heav'ns have rob'd me of succeeding bliss,
And hid me from those means to grant you this
I most desire, behold my love I dye,
My trouled soule methinks doth seem to flye
Through silent Caves and Fields, two pleasant gates
Ope wide to take me in, wherein there waits
A Crown of gold, neither by arm or hand
Supported, but of its free power doth stand,
Now sits upon my head, these things I see,
And yet I live, can this a vision be?
About to stir, O stir me not he cries,
My feet stick fast, Sappho farewell, and dyes.
While yet he speaks, my Parents wayward fate,
Must be accompanied with the date
Of my despised life, a fearfull rind
Of Citron trembling redd, doth creeping bind
His not half closed speech, his curled hair,
Which gallants of his time did use to wear
Of an indifferent length, now upward heaves,
Towards the skyes their gold refulgent leaves.
Sappho at this exclaims, laments, invokes
No Power nor God, but seeks by hasty strokes,
As a fit sacrifice unto her friend,
From her beloved brest her soul to send.
Awhile she silent stood, belike to think,
Which was the safest way for her to drink
Of the same cup her Phaon did, at last
(As evill thoughts will quickly to one haste)
She saw the Spring that ran along the Grove,
'Tis you fair streams must send me to my Love.
Behold, dear Love, with what impatient heat,
My soul aspires to mount to that blest seat,
Where thou blest sit'st, stretch out thy sacred hand,
And with safe conduct draw me to that land,
That we may taste the joyes the vallie yeelds;
And hand in hand may walk th'Elisian fields.
This said, she turns her face unto the Tree,
And kissing it, said, if thou still can'st see,
Behold how irksome I enjoy that breath,
Which still detains my meeting thee in death:
With that she saw his sword, which she did take,
And having kiss'd it for the owners sake,
Salutes her brest with many weeping wounds,
Then casts her self into the Spring, and drown'ds.
There is a Hill in Paphlagonia, nam'd
Cytorus, whither this mischance was fam'd;
My self was present there when many rude,
And base untutur'd peasants did intrude
Into our games, they were, as since I heard
Those base insulting Traitors, that debarr'd
Wendenlands Crown from righteous Phaon's browe;
These (cause the Gods had quit them of the vowes
They made to work his death) with open cries,
Proclam'd their thanks, and sent them to the skies.
But Venus, who in constant love delights,
And ev'ry perfect amity requites,
Exil'd their joy, each one perceives their arms
To branches grow, each one partakes the harms
Of their deserts, a tree there is which bears
His summer hue, and it in winter wears,
To this she turns them, that continuall green
Might manifest their never pard'ned sinne.
This done I saw a Knight of courage bold,
Cloth'd all in argent armor, strip'd with gold,
Who vow'd, the death of one of us should pay
For her mishap, to crown the heavy day
With Anadems from his victorious hand,
I too too over forward, did demand
What was the cause; discourteous Knight he said,
Dost not repent thee that thou hast betraid
That honor'd Lady? while I ignorant
Of what he meant, he said tis not the want
Of Launce, shall keep thee safe, till I have shown
Thy just revenge; so threw away his own.
But with his sword he taught me what to doe,
And I my self had sword and armor too
Ready to answer him; the fight was long,
And had been longer too, till I too strong,
With an unlucky blow, ô wer't ungiven,
Betraid his life, and sent his soul to Heaven:
Twas Alphitheon, who of long had lov'd
Sappho, now dead, whose sute I oft had mov'd
In his behalf, now hearing of her fate,
Either increast in him suspitious hate
T'wards me; or furious else did frantick strike,
Amaz'd, unkind to every one alike;
Dying he knew me, and bewaild his losse,
My friend Arcadius said he, the crosse
Of this my present state, ought not to be
A blot to stain our former amitie
I die, let my remembrance have a place
In thy just heart, it shall be no disgrace.
Though envy stole my sense, ô 'tis no blot,
No fault at all was mine; I knew thee not
When here I met thee first; My dearest friend;
I die, love the remembrance of my end.
So said, he went away, while I distraught
For grief of this inhumane wicked fault,
Vow'd never more to move a Ladies heart
Nor for my self, nor for anothers part.
Arcadius ceast, and Sepha's turn was now.
Who said (belov'd and worthy Knight) that vow
You eas'ly may infringe, and yet be blest.
A rash conceit was never held the best.
You say it may be, and it shall be so.
Arcadius said, chiefly for that I know
When virtue, beauty, and intire delight,
Our nere dissolv'd affection doe unite
The fault appears the less the glorious eyes
Of the All-seeing power do despise
Continuall grief, and Iove himself erst while
Carousing bouls of wine is seen to smile.
Fair Lady know, as yet to me unknown,
Your beauty and your virtues have oreflown
My willing yeelding sense, a secret fire,
Continually increasing through desire
To honor your admired parts, doth move,
By nought to be extinguisht but your love.
Love is a thing full of suspitious care,
By every churlish winde blown to dispair.
Silent Canius dy'd for love, not known
To her, who did his pure affection own.
I therefore ope my heart before your eyes,
Not doubting but you'r kinde as well as wise;
Not doubting but you'r wise as well as kinde.
Fair Sepha said, your worth I know may find
Far better Ladies, that may more content
Your love than I, and then you will repent
You of your deed, which still will you molest,
A rash conceit was never held the best.
Though all the beauties in the world were one,
Said he, and I by right might seize upon
The same, yet would I for thy vertues sake,
Aspire no better fortune, than to make
Thee my beloved wife, where ere thou art,
What ere thou dost, the Graces grace impart
To thy sweet self; this hair, this lovely hair,
If loose, as thou dost often use to wear,
Ostends thy freer beauty, or if knit,
It shews rare wisdome is inclos'd in it.
In fine they are the chains that link desire
In ev'ry brest, and kindle Cupids fire,
For which soever way thou dost them wear,
They fetch thee honour, and thy honour bear.
To me she said you please to speak the best,
O thought you of me so I should be blest,
Not that my fond conceit desires to bee
Linkt with each pleasing object that I see,
But of a long retain'd affection, I
Desire the bonds of perfect amity;
And since you please to honor me so well
With common friendship, that in all should dwell,
Tell me the name of that thrice blessed place
Injoyes your presence, and from what blest race
You draw your line; me Arathea claims
Said he, my much unhappy Parents names,
Were Capaneus, and Evadne, they
Of good report and noble progeny,
My Father, led by just revenge, was chief
Of those that wrought distressed Thebes grief,
Who having wed my Mother then but young
And of a pleasant face, whose Parents sprung
From Iuno's brests, unto those wars was call'd;
Where after many skirmishes befall'd
To him this sad mishap, when various fights
Had clos'd up many with eternall nights,
He furious, and impatient of delay,
Resolv'd a quick dispatch, and with that day
To end the wars, a Ladder he devises,
Of cords compos'd, by which he enterprizes
Apparent means to scale the walls, but lo,
About to clime, some wicked hand doth throw
A stone upon him; yet i'l clime he said;
But while his soldiers came unto his aid,
For all their hopes upon his worth reli'd,
He gave directions for the wars and dy'd.
My Mother too too heavy for his harm,
Did help his wounded body to unarm,
When all his friends to honor him the more,
Were present, and his ruine did deplore.
But while the fire consumes with greedy flame
His flesh, my Mother runs into the same;
To shew when virtue shrines an upright heart,
Death never can united honor part.
In this Campania where my Castle stands,
I was instructed by the carefull hands
Of Callias, till understanding bad
Revenge be done for wrongs my Parents had.
I mov'd the wars afresh, what means I made,
With all-perswading reasons to perswade
The soldiers aid, is this

The Story of Delithason and Verista.

Not far remote there are four little lands,
Rul'd by that God, who girts them with his hands;
Statinæ call'd, in these my Father dwelt,
Whose alwayes scraping, but nere fill'd hand felt
A mean of Fortunes good, (whether by Fate,
Or fore-ordained to expire the date
Of my distressed life) to me t's unknown,
But wealth (with which those Isles have ever flown)
Heap'd to his hands a still encreasing croud
Of gilded pills, those riches made him proud.
Amongst the other fortunes that he had,
(O whether shall I term it good or bad)
The Heav'ns assign'd him me, Verista nam'd,
Who yet but young, a false report had fam'd
Rare beauty of me; this, ô this declar'd,
Draw'd many Princes that the same had heard,
To try the judgment of their eyes, which fame
By some confirm'd, this Delithason came,
(Not like a Prince, as like a Prince he might,
Because he was a Prince) but like a Knight
With Sword and Lance, but first I'd have you know
My Father amongst many had a foe
Of Gyants race, whose heart enur'd to wrong,
To rapes, and base oppressions had long
Appli'd his strength, and now to torture more
My Fathers brest that life might give him o're,
This quarrell pick'd, he came and did demand
Me for his wife, and cause we did withstand
His wish, with kindled rage from Pluto's Cell,
He shakes his dangling locks, and down to Hell
A journey takes, Erinnis he implor'd,
And all the Furies which he there ador'd,
T'assist his new found plot, nor yet in vain
They adde their help, with fire they rent in twain
A Town my Father own'd, the dwellers there
Affraid of death, t'abolish quite their fear,
Plastred the walls with brains, their limbs bestrew'd
The blushing streets with streams of blood bedew'd.
To this he adds a mischief worse, and throwes
Blasphemous oaths, on which he did repose,
Vp to Saturnus son, the sacred stones,
On which the people laid oblations,
He hurls about the Temple, from the posts
The gold he tears, and in his mischief boasts.
By this my brother, guided by the cryes
Of conquer'd sounds, came staring in, and spies
The honors of Celestiall Gods defac't,
A sling he had, and from that sling did cast
The over hastie stone, and though he well
Could use his sling, yet did his art excell
In managing his sword, now heav'd aloft,
Threatning the Gyants death, said he, how oft
Shall I be vext with too too partiall eye
Of thy outrage? perish with this and dye.
His speech scarce clos'd,

the Gyant.

Marfilos smear'd with blood,
A colebrand snatcht wch. by the altar stood,
And sends it to my brother, 'twas espy'd
By Delithason this, about to slide
Along the Air, with Lance he stopt his hand,
And sent his soul to that infernall land,
Where ghosts with hideous cries indure the right
Of their deserts, cloath'd in Eternall night.
Thus Delithason by the clamors call'd,
And by the Gyants death the same appall'd;
Restor'd to every man his own, the rather
To get (the seldom got) love of my Father;
Who nothing thankfull for so great a favour,
Gave thanks indeed; but with so rude behaviour,
That nought was heard but sighs and pittious moan,
How to regain the harm to him was done.
I must said said he, omit the charge I us'd
In keeping house, by which I have abus'd
My quite-consumed stock; I must omit
The courteous entertainment that is fit
For worthy guess, and so to end the strife
Of sleeping age, with a retired life;
To this the Prince, (whose ever piety
Still lent discourteous acts a noble eye)
Sayes, aged Father your declining head
Should scorn to be to base Rebellion led
Against the Lawes of Hospitality;
Decrepit age should on the good rely
Which she hath done, not on her present wealth,
The souls decay, opposer to her health.
O whither shall I turn? assist me now
Ye ever helping Powers, let not a vow
So firmly made before your holy fires,
So eas'ly be infring'd; but who aspires
To mount the chariot where the glorious Sun
The orb surveys, with pride shall be undon.
And shall I silent dye? Shall this exile
From hopes, the pure bond of my love defile?
Shall my desir'd desires with horrid sound
Of a faint heart increase m'increasing wound?
No, Love must fear no harm, he is not fit
T'enjoy Loves fruits, that hath not firmly knit
A resolution to his hopes, and ty'd
Himself, though oft, yet ne're to be deny'd.
Father, the wings of ever warbling fame
Exempt alone, chatter'd the glorious name
Of your Verista's beauty, 'twas my chance,
When ev'ry Eccho did the same advance
In lofty tunes, to hap into your fight,
And being greedy of so great a sight,
Gave period to all hopes of other beauty,
And did besiege her heart, 'tis now her duty
My pleasure to obey, for Hymens lights
Have linkt our hearts, with honour of those rites
To Lovers due, be willing then to it
Since Fate hath stop'd all means the bond t'unknit.
But if you will not, if you will persever
In hatred to those Princes, that endeavor
To bless their happy lives in blessing her;
I say again, if still you will prefer
Your will before all reason without reason,
As hitherto you have don, there's a Season
Call'd quiv'ring winter, with his milky bride,
Will freez your honor, and abate your pride.
Imperiall I, in fair Zephire sit,
Whom wealthy Caria bounds, and brags of it,
There flowes that paltry gold so much I hate,
I think the more t'impare my quiet state.
Luxurious brat, and enemy to wealth,
My Father said, th'hast got the Crown by stealth,
With it Verista's love, and do'st thou think
My Daughter shall of that stolne honour drink?
First let my hands imbrew their wrinkled skin
In her false breast, first let the spoyle begin
Vpon my off-spring, can thy boasts assure her?
Or the bare title of a Crown procure her
Contented wealth? Say, can so great a name,
As Queen of Caria wipe away the blame
Of disobedience? or release the oath
Of duty? or of zealous care? or both?
Which she (when subject to my tender rodds,)
Made in the presence of the better Gods?
Here De lithason staid his speech, too late,
He said, you vent your nere consumed hate.
The Gods observe your deeds, and though a while
They slack their vengance, tis but to beguile
The Offenders with false hopes; so said, he turn'd
His head about, and on the Altar burn'd
Prepared Incense, strait the Altar brake
In twain, and after a fierce Thunder-clap,
Sweet Musick breath'd, in which a Chanter cry'd,
Thy time's expir'd, and thou art deifi'd.
Amaz'd the people stand, nor yet to whom,
They can conceive this prophecie should come;
Not I alas, no, nor my feeble heart,
Fore-thought of this, of this untimely dart,
For so it hapt,

The Gyant.

Marfilos had a son,
(From a corrupted spring ill waters run)
Who (wicked) at his fathers death repining,
Iust as the Sun was to his bed declining,
Observ'd when I and Delithason hy'd
T'wards his Zephire, (for being denide
My Fathers Blessing, privily we got
Away, when careless he observed not)
And passing through this wood this Bloody wood
(A closet for those that delight in Blood)
The Gyants son a twinded Iavelin cast,
And made this wound you see, that don, in hasie
Knowing his dart this spotless heart had sped,
Vnto his home, his fathers den he fled:
About to tell the rest she stopt, and dy'd,
When I by vertue of my promise ty'd,
After I had repos'd them in one Vrne,
Towards Statinæ did my voyage turne,
And (lest too long I should delay the joy,
Hasty Arcadius wishes to enjoy)
Stuft up with Ire, I did not long pursue
His steps, before at him I had a view.
Ho! villaine stay, I cry'd, receive the meed,
The Gods a lot thee for thy wicked deed,
Stay Murtherer, thy haste shall not prefer,
Injustice before right, stay Murtherer,
While yet I spake, my Lance his shoulders caught,
My Sword beguild him of his head, and taught
This lesson to the world, th'allseeing Eye,
Lets not apparent wrongs unpunish'd dye.
My vow dissolv'd, I bent my course again
Towards Abella, whose high walls disdain
A rivall in their prid, there is a way
That leads thereto, by which a medow lay,
In it I saw a Knight of Silver hew,
With sword, hold a stout Combat against two
Of fiery looks, I hy'd me to the fight,
Either by force or Treaty to unite
Their various minds, but what can words prevail,
Where bloody resolutions do assail
A spotless minde? no time they would admit,
Through hasty fight, t'inquire the cause of it.
A while I view'd the Combate, till the Knight
In silver armor on the neck did light
Of one of th'adverse side, who unacquainted
With such rough complements, fell down and fainted.
So done, he said, by all the Powers that dwell
In lofty thrones, thy valour doth excell
Thy neighb'ring Princes, but thy unjust cause,
Repugne against the splendor, and the lawes
Of Martiall discipline, content thee then
With this, thou art the happiest of men
In that th'hast scap'd revenge to traytors due,
Do other matters cause thee to pursue
This spite, besides thy false suspect? or can
Thy ever-stain'd affection (which began
And ends with lust, not love) enchant thy sense
So far with stupid blindnesse to commence
Hatred for this? withdraw thy self and yeeld
To me thy life, thy weapon, and the field.
So shall my arms with amity imbrace
Thy neck; where else 'twill shew thee thy disgrace.
No sooner said, but we might hear the sounde
Of trampling horses beat the tender ground
For swifter speed now to us seen, and now
Dismount their Steeds, and to the adverse bow,
Pardon said they (great Prince) that our neglect
Infring'd the Laws of our indeer'd respect.
But when they saw his armor stain'd, and view'd,
His dead companion with blood imbru'd,
They re-amount the nimble Steeds they rid,
(For Marble look'd not paler than they did)
And to the silver Knight their anger bent,
Who with excess of bleeding almost spent,
Held up his hand to me, to me he said,
(For they were three) see how I am betraid
With these unequall odds, no more you need
To move me up I said, fear not, proceed
With your own hands to lacerate in twain
Their conscious hearts, to me your prayers are vain.
I am too weak to shelter you from harms,
Though arm'd, yet I'm unskill'd to use my arms,
But what I am I'm yours, with that our swords
We drew, and blows supply'd the want of words.
While he (most noble and most valiant Knight)
Each blow he took, each blow he did requite
With treble use, awhile they hold us play,
Till overcome, their lives did end our fray.
This done, and all things hist, I thought it good
To stop the conduits of his flowing blood,
When mounted on our Steeds, with gentle gate
Riding towarde his home, he did relate
The tragick story thus; I am said he
Arcadius, and yonder Towr you see
Is mine, this Prince whom now we slew,
Hearing what pure unstain'd affection grew
'Tween me, and one nam'd Sepha in her heart,
He came, and did prescribe a double part:
On this our quarrell grew, and what success
In it he had, your valour will express.
Not I, said I, 'twas you your conquering hand,
Your cause, your sword, your strength that did withstand
Their greedy hopes, the Gods do close their eyes
From impious vassals, and exclude their cryes.
And since you please t'intitle me your friend,
O let my willing service you attend,
And what you think will magnifie your name,
Withall conceive me ready for the same.
'Twas Summer then, and having cur'd his wounds
Call'd out by th'noise of his pursuing hounds,
We gallopp'd o're the plains, now by a Wood
Our way we took, where purple statues stood,
O blesse me here he cry'd, and softly said,
Inshrind in these four pleasant Nymphs are laid.
Then by a Tower, in this said he remains
The fairest flower, the pride of all the plains,
'Tis Sepha's house, the Goddess of my heart,
In whose fair cheeks, Love with his golden dart
Sits sporting, dasht with a Vermilion dye,
Th'are like the blush came from Endymions eye,
When twin-born Cynthia to suffice her will,
Had courted him on sleepy Latmos hill.
No sooner said, but Sepha said 'tis true,
If lik'd of you, for Sepha lives by you,
And spying me she blush'd, lovers doe so,
For conscious minds appear by th'outward shew;
All salutations past, she led us in,
Where first our root of ruine did begin:
For such firm bonds of constant amity,
Had link'd Arcadius loyall heart to me,
(Which by our outward actions was not hid,
For never two lov'd better than we did)
That she perceiving how he stood inclin'd,
The more to please and gratulate his mind,
Vs'd me with courteous terms, he discontent,
(Suspition is a tryall eminent
Of true affection) thought some new-born love
'Twards me increast, her tender heart did move
As Helen did to Paris, took occasion,
T'assist her loyall love with this perswasion;
For sitting in a pleasant bower which hung
With various flowres he took a Lute and sung.
Sepha at this was pleas'd, displeas'd was he
To see her smile; leave off thy jealousie
Arcadius she said, I am possest
With that firm love, which nere shall leave my brest.
First shall the Sun forget his course to flie,
And Pindus hills shall soar about the skie.
First shall the Roman Eagles lose their wings,
And musick murmur musick without strings.
First shall the Sea-born Goddesse leave the fan
Of ardent love, and turn precisian:
And fearfull Hares pursue the thundring cry
Of Cretan Hounds, and Ovids mem'ry dy,
Er'e I, who to thee do my soul betroth,
Forsake my word, or falsify my oath.
So said, she hangs her lip, and lours her head,
(Lovers are oft asham'd of what they sed)
While he with hymns of joy the debt did pay
Of upright love, and nam'd the wedding day.
Which come, and all things ready, Sepha drest
Her hair, her coats were blew, upon her brest
She wore a Stone of curious art compos'd,
Wherein two naked lovers were inclos'd;
Both striving, till the maid who did resist,
Grew weak, and then he us'd her as he list.
Now Ladies, know; a Prince there was whom fame
Had taken captive with fair Sepha's name,
Who hearing of the wedding day, wherein
Their hands should be linkt, as their hearts had bin;
And hearing of the weakness of the guard,
That should conduct them to the Church, prepar'd
To rob us of her; as you pass the plain,
There is a prety hillock that would fain
Be call'd a hill, behind this hill they hide
Themselves, their weapons, and doe there reside.
Now we in whom no thought of treachery
Had told us of mishap, with jollity
Hy'd to the temple, there, o there the chance
Of base conspiring mischief did advance
It self, dejected us, a horrid voice
Of threatning people sent a hideous noise
Vnto our ears, now to our eys their arms
With glittring shields foretell our following harms.
Vnweapon'd we, for battels are refus'd
On wedding days, and other weapons us'd,
So that the easier they our necks did bend
Vnto their yoke, now had they took my friend
The yong Arcadius and his lovely bride,
The onely prize they waited for, and hy'd
Them on their way, born by the heat of love
'Twards th'one, 'twards th'other hate their speed did move,
When I (ô ne're till then unfortunate)
Saw Tyranny and malice at debate,
Who first should steal away the spotless life
Of my Arcadius, at last a knife,
His unstain'd bosome pierc'd, who dying cry'd,
Let Sepha live, and I am satisfied.
You ravishers said I of others blood,
By this discern if Traytors ends are good,
And with a sword snatch'd from anothers arm,
Cleft one, and said be sharer in his harm;
With that a second, and a third I slew,
And so a fourth, till such a tumult grew,
That after divers blows away they fled,
And left me, as they well might think for dead.
Mean while Campanian Sepha took her flight
Into a Wood, born there by horrid fright.
Where long she could not stay, by carefull heed
Drawn forth, to know how her known love did speed,
And now she finds, what nere she wisht to find,
With his dear bloud the blushing flowers lin'd;
She sayes not much, lest helplesse words should stay
Her soul too long, but kneeling down doth pray,
Then took the knife by his own blood made foul,
And falling down upon't advanc't her soul.
Awak'd from out my sound, I saw how Fate
Had plaid the wanton, and expir'd their date:
I took their bodies and them both did burn,
I put them both together in one Vrn;
Strait both their ashes, Male and Female grew,
And from the same admired Phænix flew;
From whence I Prophesie it shall revive
By death, for tis their fame shall keep't alive,
Which growing old towards the Sun shall flie,
And till the Heavens dissolve shall never dye.
Here Epimenides his story ceast,
And bending down his panting bosome dyes:
Whose death the Ladies former griefs increast,
They sent his Soule to Elizium with their cryes,
Vpon whose shrine they wrot his death, to show
From Heaven he came, to Heaven he needs must go.

Hinc Lachrimæ,

OR THE AVTHOR TO AVRORA:

To the immortall memory of the fairest and most vertuous Lady, the Lady [OMITTED]

Her tongue hath ceast to speak, which might make dumb
All tongues, might stay all Pens, al hands benum;
Yet must I write, O that it might have been
While she had liv'd, and had my verses seen,
Before sad cries deaf'd my untuned ears,
When verses flow'd more easily than tears.
Ah why neglected I to write her praise,
And paint her Vertues in those happy dayes!
Then my now trembling hand and dazled eye,
Had seldome fail'd, having the pattern by;
Or had it err'd, or made some strokes amiss,
(For who can portray Vertue as it is?)
Art might with Nature have maintain'd her strife,
By curious lines to imitate true life.
But now those Pictures want their lively grace,
As after death none well can draw the face:
We let our friends passe idlely like our time,
Till they be gone, and then we see our crime,
And think what worth in them might have been known,
What duties done, and what affection shown:
Vntimely knowledge, which so dear doth cost,
And then begins when the thing known is lost;
Yet this cold love, this envy, this neglect,
Proclaims us modest, while our due respect
To goodness is restrain'd by servile fear,
Lest to the world, it flatt'ry should appear:
As if the present hours deserv'd no praise:
But age is past, whose knowledge only stayes
On that weak prop which memory sustains,
Should be the proper subject of our strains:
Or as if foolish men asham'd to sing
Of Violets, and Roses in the Spring,
Should tarry till the flow'rs were blown away,
And till the Muses life and heat decay;
Then is the fury slack'd, the vigour fled,
As here in mine, since it with her was dead:
Which still may sparkle, but shall flame no more,
Because no time shall her to us restore:
Yet may these Sparks, thus kindled with her fame,
Shine brighter, and live longer than some flame.
Here expectation urgeth me to tell
Her high perfections, which the world knew well.
But they are far beyond my skill t'unfold,
They were poor vertues if they might be told.
But thou, who fain would'st take a gen'rall view
Of timely fruits which in this garden grew,
On all the vertues in mens actions look,
Or read their names writ in some morall book;
And sum the number which thou there shalt find:
So many liv'd, and triumph'd in her mind.
Nor dwelt these Graces in a house obscure,
But in a Palace fair, which might allure
The wretch, who no respect to vertue bore,
To love It, for the garments which it wore.
So that in her the body and the soule
Contended, which should most adorn the whole.
O happy soul for such a body meet,
How are the firm chains of that union sweet,
Dissever'd in the twinkling of an eye?
And we amaz'd dare ask no reason why,
But silent think, that God is pleas'd to show,
That he hath works, whose ends we cannot know:
Let us then cease to make a vain request,
To learn why die the fairest, why the best;
For all these things, which mortals hold most dear,
Most slipp'ry are, and yeeld less joy than fear;
And being lifted high by mens desire,
Are more propitious marks for heav'nly fire;
And are laid prostrate with the first assault,
Because, our love makes their desert their fault.
Then justice, us to some amends should move
For this our fruitless, nay our hurtfull love;
We in their Honour, piles of stone erect
With their dear Names, and worthy praises deckt:
But since those fail, their glories we reherse,
In better Marble, everlasting verse:
By which we gather from consuming hours,
Some parts of them, though time the rest devours;
Then if the Muses can forbid to die,
As we their Priests suppose, why may not I?
Although the least and hoarsest in the quire,
Clear beams of blessed immortality inspire
To keep thy blest remembrance ever young,
Still to be freshly in all ages sung:
Or if my work in this unable be,
Yet shall it ever live, upheld by thee:
For thou shalt live, though Poems should decay,
Since Parents teach their Sons, thy praise to say;
And to Posterity, from hand to hand
Convey it with their blessing and their land.
Thy quiet rest from death, this good derives,
Instead of one, it gives thee many lives:
While these lines last, thy shadow dwelleth here,
Thy fame, it self extendeth ev'ry where;
In Heav'n our hopes have plac'd thy better part:
Thine Image lives, in thy sad Husbands heart:
Who as when he enjoy'd thee, he was chief
In love and comfort, so is he now in grief.

To his dear Friend Mr. John Emely upon his Travells.

Have other Nations got that tempting art?
Or Seas? (O thou the second of my heart)
To steal thee from us? shall thy presence plant
Those goods elsewhere, which Countrey thine doth want?
And chiefly me, who every winde abjure
That loudly roars, to make thy passage sure,
As much I blame the calms, for secret fear,
Though without cause, in all things will appear.
And now my thinks the Cantabrician flood,
With open jawes growes thirsty for thy blood,
Which if great Cælums off-spring doth appall
The calm I fear sits smiling at thy fall.
Or if Sicilian Seas thou furrowest o're,
Thy danger by Charibdis I deplore,
And Scilla's rock, whose bloody mouth doth lye
For thee, if more towards the North you flye.
If to Eoum, or to Indus arm,
Paropanisian rocks will do thee harm.
If on Propontis, or Tanais flood,
Tanai's and Hellespont are stain'd with blood.
What pleasure then allures thee to their coast?
In safest beds pleasure resideth most.
Nor Countrey can, nor other Nations give
More sweet content, than where thy Parents live.
What will it boot to view the snowy hills
Of Alpine high? whose fleecy moisture fills
The humble dales? or what will it prevail,
To hear th'exub'rance of a forrain tale?
What joy can it produce to hear the swains,
Leading their flocks along the Scythian plains,
T'accord their voices to the slender reeds
Of Amarillis praise? or what exceeds
With sweeter pleasure, and more bright doth shine
In other Countryes, than it doth in thine?
Now to Olimpian hills thou tak'st thy way,
Farr happier wouldst thou in our valleys stay,
And see thy Countrey Hero's sports prepare,
More pleasant than Olimpian pleasures are.
No service we to Nereus Altar vow,
Nor dread we Neptune, nor to Neptune bow,
But free from fear, in blushing mornings walk,
Through shady groves, to hear woods chanters talk
Ruddy Auroras praise, and with free mone,
To Eccho's only sigh our loves alone.
In Summer time we walk the flowry meads,
Where Flora o're her spotted Carpet leads
Our eyes, and gluts us with discoloured shows
Of Flowers, which on her am'rous bosome grows.
Then Zephirus with fair Nepenthe sents,
Comes stealing o're the flowers, and presents
Sweets odors to us, while by silver brook,
We sit, and cheat the Fishes with a hook.
And when the Meadows are disburthened
Of grasse, and with their withred Cocks are spred,
Then with our Nymphs and Ladies we resort,
Vnto those Cocks, and on, and o're them sport.
So Frisking Kidds their pleasures will display,
And with their loves in smiling Evenings play.
When going forwards with sweet tunes receiv'd
Our fingers in each others interweav'd,
We chat of love, and all the way we walke,
We make the boy the subject of our talk;
So sport we o're the Meads, till Hesper come,
Allur'd by our delights to light us home.
The night we pass in contemplations sweet,
(Contented thoughts makes sable night more fleet)
And in the morning (morning beautifi'd
With glorious Sol, who decks it with his pride)
We ride about the fields to recreate
Our o're-joy'd minds, minds never staind with hate.
Where fearfull hares before our Greyhounds flye,
A while they run, and run awhile they dy.
Then cast we off our nimble winged hawk,
Whose speedy flight all baser preys doth bawk,
And up, his envying strength doth manage well,
'Gainst him, who from Minervas turrets fell.
Now to her Altar we, whose golden hairs
Presents our corn, whole handfulls of our ears
Do bear, who smiling on her Altar, takes
Our Off'rings, and next fruitfull harvest makes.
When you Carpathean, and Aegæan Seas
With odors stain, their flatt'red God to please.
If palsie Hyems with his frozen head
Doth hide fair Ceres in his Icy bed,
With gins we snatch the silly birds; and snare
With our deceitfull toyls, the fearfull Hare.
And now Sydonian Bores with angry pace,
Through thick Stymphalian Woods our Hounds doe chase;
Who o're our steepy hills their way doe flye,
Where Countrey swains their speedy flight descry:
And with a hollow of rejoycing sounds,
Blown up, encourage our pursuing Hounds.
Retiting home, we praise, or discommend
Their long-maintained race, or hasty end.
When loggs of wood in spacious Chimneys laid
Of a consuming fire, a fire are made,
And we with our beloved wives declare,
Those sweet contents in Countrey pleasures are.
O might I taste those Marriage joyes, and tell
What pure delight in upright Love doth dwell.
And now to feast lov'd Christmas with delight,
Our neighbours to our suppers we invite;
Which past, and stools before the fier set,
All former wrath and wranglings we forget,
And while the Apples in the fiers rost,
Of kindnesse wee, and Countrey friendship boast,
Till with a Wassell, which our wives impart
With sugred hands, we close the night, and part.
These things thy nation yields us, and would prove
More blest, wouldst thou adorn her with thy love.
For if thou still depriv'st us of that light
Thy presence gives, and that intire delight,
By which thy Country smiles, she will decay
In fame, and her renown will fade away.
And I pursue thee o're Bononian Rhyne,
And to thee my dejected life confine.