Chapter 8

And as she did ascend those staires to lust, in the midway, she heard her father speake: And nere lay partridge closer to the dust, at sound o' the Faulccons bell, then she too weak To encounter or resist: and feares are such, in loue by loue, that they enccrease loue much. Loue like to Monarkes, hath his state hie reared who euer wil be lou'd, where they are feared.

To a hundred seueral passions she doth yeeld, and as we see in Autumne of the yere Some gallant oake stand ready to be feld, vppon whose ribs a hundred wounds appeare Forc'd by the brawnie armes of Hynds vnlithe, who workes a passage to the weeping pith: Vncertaine (though wind shaken) where to fall: so stood her mynd doutful of rest at al.

Nurse opes the doore, and brings her to the bed the darkenesse of the night abated shame: And leaues her that must leaue her maiden head to the begetter of his owne defame, With faultring hams hauing got twixt the sheetes, In fearefull lust this _Prodegiæ_ meetes, He begs a kisse, then blusht she as he spake it, yet he must giue it, shee wants power to take it.

Now trembling lay she by her fathers side, like filly doue within the Eagles gripe: Nor doth she vse soft shrikes as doth a bride, (I meane a maide) when as the fruite so ripe Of maiden-head, forced from their wombe, Her fathers armes to her was as a tombe. She dead in pleasure, durst not shew her voice, least _Cyniras_ should know this faire foule choice.

But when that Cupid once had whetted her, she twines her lilly stalks about his necke: So clings young _Ivie_ bout the aged oake there, _Venus_ smile, but frowning _Iuno_ checks. Their stolne delight, no nuptiall tapers shone, No Virgin belt vntyed, but all vndone, the Athenian God, kindled no hallowed fires, darke was the night, suiting to their desires.

The morrow came, toyled with wakes and lust, she leaues her father, when as the rising Sun Couering the easterne Pines and mountaine dust, spyed Mirrha from her couch of sin to runne. Then blusht he first, and backward would ha fled And euer since in's rising hee's still red, Nere Turkas was at sicke blood more estrang'd, then Mirrha when her chastitie was chang'd.

Oft would she leane against her fathers knees, & tie his garter in a true loue's knot: And then vndoo't againe, as to shew she were vndone, yet he conceiu'd it not. And woman like that, keep not secrets long, she shewd her loue in d[=u]b shewes with out tung, her lust she knew (yet hardly it concealde) like Fayries Treasur's vanish'd if reueal'd.

A third night came, darker then shores belowe, when Cyniras (father of feareful lust) Willing to see the foule that did bestowe So many pleasures on him (Ioue is iust) Did reach a taper, whose confusiue light, Strucke like a blasting at that horrid sight. The light fell from him loathing his defame, things senceles oft are mou'd, wh[=e] men not shame.

At length with bloodie eye fixed on her, out of an Iuorie scabberd hanging by: He drew a monumental Semiter, thinking with death that both their shames shold dye But night that oft befriended her with sinne, In her blacke wombe too, did her freedome win, For through the darke she slipt, and left her fire, to mourne his Fate, not execute his ire.

Sped with her lust, and flying thence apace, in feares and trembling, feare doth giue vs eies: For saftie to the Gods, she lifts her face, & her claspt hands to what she now not see's, loues browe was darke, Boetes had amaine Driuen his Oxen to the lower plaine. Phebæ fled heauen, her face no tincture beares, Because shee saw a deed, worthie her teares.

The morning came, where yet the fatall print of Mirrha lay vpon the pillow: _Cynix_ he Clog'd with distresse, a fathers cursse did hint, vpon that place of foule inchastitie, the sight of what we loath, breedes loathing more and vertue once renounc'd ingenders store, Leaue we him touz'd in care, for worldly wee, loue to leaue great men in their miserie.

Seauen winters nights, she fled before the Moone (who knew the vnchaste act she had inforc'd) Through _Arabie_, in feare she posteth soone, To odorous Panchaia, whose confines diuorc'd Her fathers land: here grew all choicest fumes: That to Ioues temples often men presumes: and on his altars them accumulate, and how they first sprung, here thereof the Fate.

_Hebæ_ now banish'd from th' _Aetherian_ boule vppon a feast day mongst the Gods aboue, Where twas made lawfull, all without controule, might freely drink it chanc'd the Queen of loue Whether she long'd, or enuied _Hebes_ starre, (Women are enuious, where they long for nectar) forc'd her to skinke so much, the iuice ran ore, so that Ioues drinke washt the defiled flore.

With this he storm'd, that's Priests from altars flie streight banish'd _Hebæ_, & the world did thinke To a second Chaos they should turned be, the clouds for feare wept out th' immortal drinke and on _Panchaia_ there this Nectar fell, Made rich th' adiacent lands with odorous smell, and such rare spices to the shoares are giuen, as Ioue would thinke no Nectar were in heauen.

There was a Satire rough and barbarous, pleasing his pallat at a trembling spring: Vnder a Beech with bowes frondiferous, though he had seene a nimph or rarer thing Then flesh and blood, for in the calmed streame, He saw her eyes like stars, whose raies did gleame Boue Phoebus farre, and so amazed stood, as if she had bin Goddesse of that flood.

And as you see a man that hath bin long Possessed with a furie of the shades: after some prayers and many a sacred song, with blessed signes, the euill spirit vades, so fell his rudenesse from him, and her shine, Made all his earthie parts pure and diuine. O potent loue, great is thy power be falne, That makes the wife mad, & the mad man calme.

Thus he begins, fairer then Venus farre, If Venus be, or if she be tis thee: Louelie as Lillies, brighter then the starre that is to earth the mornings Mercurie: Softer then Roses, sweeter breath'd then they, blush't boue _A_urora, better cloath'd then May. lipt like a cherrie, but of rarer taste, Deuine as Dian, and as fully chaste.

Pardon my rude tongue, if I chance to erre, as Hermes selfe might erre being the God of Eloquence: for your bright eye doth beare all earthly blessings in a faire abode, Excuse me if I trip, I meane your weale, Error's no error, where tis done with zeale. Loue like materiall fires is made to flame: When tis supprest with fanning Fires first came.

With this, the Maid (so took) hung down her head wondring that such a shape had such a tongue: able to steale her loue, had she not fled, and from his ardent gripes, her body wrung. Flying like _Phebæ_ after strucken deere: and as he follow'd she fled more for feare. _Zephire_ came foorth, to dally with her haire, while the poore Satire cried stay maide so faire.

But he on sudden like a subtill Snake, rould in a heape, shootes foorth himself at l[=e]gth; and to his vigorous armes greedie doth take, his yeilding prey, won with his words not str[=e]gth To be a woman, is by nature giuen, But to be constant, is a star, which heauen Hath seald on their sex forehead as a signe, That constancie in women is diuine.

Thou didst deceiue me Mirrha, when I saide, thou flew'st for feare, thou gau'st me cause to fear and I might iustlie haue this gainst thee laide, thou wentst t' auide by pathes that were so nere Who begin, ill most often end in ill, and she that doth her first pure youth so spill In lawles lust, though made a wife to one, Remaines like wax for each impression.

But see the goodnesse of the Deities, who still with grace preuents our ill presage, This groue was hallow'd to no Hiadres, but chast Diana, who with violent rage Discending from her towre of Christalline, To keepe the place still sacred and diuine: against her rites, brought with her thereupon white Poplar from the banckes of _Acheron_:

Then with a charme, that did her face eclips, And made her crescent quak, the iuice she powers Vpon the Satirs face, and prophane lipps, which quickly ouer all his body showers, Her borrow'd power of art being finished: (Deriued from Phoebus as her light) she saide, Nine-times the holy rime, which spok will clere, all prophane matter, and this spake she there.

Sleepe Poplar sleepe, that was the Satirs name, who had bin long a king within these woods, Since thou my sacred Groue, gan to prophane: a sleepe seize on thee, still as stigian floods, by Stix I vow the partiall destenies, Did they conspire, shold nere vnclaspe thin eies, hauing thus said, the Satire vanisht so, as mens prospect that from a mirrour goe.

I thinke (quoth she) accursed is this place, for heere the man, for whome I sorrow now, Heedelesse Acteon with immodest face, saw all our naked and did ouer-vewe: As men rich iuells doe, thinking there lies yet some rare vertue hidden from their eyes: And euen there quoth shee, & then did point, reuen'gd, I saw his hounds teare ioint from ioint.

But since saies she, thou as a King didst reigne, and art a Trophey too of _Dians_ power: Thus much the Goddesse of the floods doth deign to change thy shape, into a vertick flower. Then thrice three words, thrice striking charmed wood The ground did crannie, and there out of hand, appeared greene Poplar, younger then before, which bow'd the head & dyan did adore.

The palefac'd Mirrha sat like guiltie spright, fore the infernall iudge, yet did not see Diana great, for dull are mortalls sight, (and all inuisible is chastitie) But heard a voice as she was vanishing, saying defild maide, doost wonder at this thing? O Mirrha ere my crescents beautie change, thou shalt be turn'd into a shape as strange.

With this the verdant new sprung Poplar plant (moou'd with the winde) seemd to bow down the head as cheering Mirrha, who did comfort want being amaz'd at what Diana saide, Hauing recouer'd sence, she flies the place, For feare of Phebæs comming to the chace: to Saba land she hies, where all affraide, my muse shall sing the downfall of the Maide.

Then first hung downe Poplar his heauie braine, for Mirrha's losse, whose loue brought him that and for he once in woods a King did raigne, a crowne hee still wear's, richly wrought with blew and yellow eke, as figures both of loue, Which Venus dropt downe him from aboue. Bacchus doth loue him, for in feasts of wine, he weares a poplar Garland mixt with vine.

The leaden God of sleepe, on his iuice feede, the vertues of him, sundry doe declare: His suddain taste a heauinesse doth breede, and drownes in rest, sences opprest with care, In places farre remote, he loues to growe, and eke by rivers that runne thicke and slowe, where drowsilie this woodish demie God, with euerie gale of winde his head doth nod.

Now to proceede after a small repose, that the accursed seede gan swell her wombe, wh[=e] her drie brain, no more teares could expose she weayting for a sad and heauie dombe. For often men offending, still doe feare, Though Ioue be farre off, yet his iudgements nere downe would she sit, and so vnfolde her moane that Eccho sight hirs and forgot her owne.

Distressed twixt the teadiousnesse of life, and trembling feare of death, she thus began: For when we cease to be the crimes are rife, which youth committed, and before vs then. For aged memorie doth clasp't containe, Those shapes of sin, which hot blood held as vain. O cursed Fates quoth she, that brought to passe this prodegie twixt me and Cyniras.

O leaue to leape for ioy, thou prettie childe, to Heare of Cyniras, or ile leaue rather: To speake of him, whose bed I haue defilde, & made him proue thy Grandsire & thy Father Was I predestin'd to select no other, But fated for the sister and the Mother, of thee my babe, heauen here hath beene sinister the childe shall call his grandsire, son his mother sister.

Oft doe two Roses grow out from one stem, and one of them is full blowne fore the other, So fares it now with thee my virgin iem, whome nature would call sonne but shame saies brother Shall I not blush when thou art ripe, to gather The circumstances of who was thy Father, yes sure I shall, yet shame forgets all shame, Ile charge thy father of a heauenly name.

But oh, I feare me least some Prodegie, the heauens agree, that I to light should bring; to fright ee'n the yron age, that chastitie might take example by my suffering. That I a monster-mother should be made, If soe, O ouer equall Gods, let _Mirrha_ fade into some shape, worthy your high deuice, Pitty to me, would make Ioue seeme vnwise.

Alter O Gods, death that is due to birth, nor let the dead repine, that I should see Eliziums blest shades, nor the men of earth annoided be with my impuritie, Let them enioy the fieldes, and learned Songes, Of hye brow'd Orpheus, let the vnflesht thronges that haue deseru'd this, and much more be glad, my starres, my double life, and fate, are sad.

You wearyed race of Danans vnblest girles, In vaine leaue off your vnwomb'd tubs to fill, & with your teares that staynd ye Indyan pearles, Weepe out for Mirrha, and ere night you will at my sad story orebrim with your teares, Your whirle-poole vessells, which so many yeres return'd no interest, if you well deplore, you'le drowne in teares, or labour so no more.

C[=o]clude my fate, quicke you eternall counsell, or else I feare the nere-erturned dead Clad in the fearefull shapes of night and hell, will rife before the general day be spred; and hurrie me in flesh to Acheron, To taste hels torture both in soule and bone: Then blast me thunderer in righteous ire, and I like _Semele_ wil meete thy fire.

The Gods to her last wish was tractable. her tongue percullist twice was as she spake: aire was her voice, and Mirrha now not able, to thanke the Gods, her ioynts in sunder brake. Leaues were her locks, of golden haire bereau'd, her armes long boughes, deem & be not deceiu'd tree gan she be, yet twixt her thing so staid, you could not say she was or tree or maide.

First grew her hayre vp like the Summer Corne, or as a blazing starre whose streames rise vpward & being changd, fell leaues, that vp were borne, by the rude windes, yet had you but haue heard You'd sware, a sigh for Mirrha's transmigration Had beene decreed by all the windie nation. and euerie Autume, since a thing moste rare, The falling leaues, resemble Mirrha's haire.

To barke her yuorie skin polisht congeald, each blew rig'd current into melting sap, Her nailes to bolssome faire, & what reueal'd with accents sad, the babe yet in her lap. Her fingers twigs, her bright eyes turn'd to gum, Buried on earth, and her owne selfe the toombe, her sences gone, yet this sence did she win, to aye relent, the horror of her sinne.

For euen as from a guilty man, that's pleading for remorse, teares follow teares, as hoping to preuaile, So from this tree, (though now a senceleffe course) flowe pretious teares, as seemes she doth bewaile In death, with euer liuing teares, the act fore-done These _Pius_ drops, made densiue by the sunne, are kept for holy vses, and the Mir, That so distilles, doth beare the name of her.

The misbegotten babie, swels the tree, and loathing the defiled wombe sought vent: Those panges that mothers haue felt shee, and solemne sighes had issue, as they'd rent, and spoile the shape, she newly had assum'd, But wordes within the close bark were inhumbd Yet wept it out, as it to water would, Or seem'd it mockt Pactolus waues of golde.

Till chast Lucina, whome the Poets giue, The mid-wiues power in producing creatures, by whose change we last die, and first doe liue, (be they not violent each) she that giues features Forme or takes away, makes foule or faire, Discending from her Spheare next to our ayre: with armes yspred, vppon the melting mir, brought diuine comfort downe from heau[=e] with her

Few wordes she spake, but euery sillable, of power to comfort the afflicted Ghostes; Or any other sencelesse thing make able, doe better deedes then those _Alcides_ boastes, the tree streight craynes, & springs forth the child who the first minut, though his countenance smild cryed out a maine, our first propheticke breath, showes our first houre, is mother to our death.

The water Nymphes then caught him tenderly, who laid him streight on the enameled bankes, and bath'd him with his mothers teares, whereby they made him fairer, and in merry prankes The Ladies call a conuocation there, Some praise his nose, his lips, his eye, his eare. Some his streight fingers, whilst a fist doth sweare his verry breath yet smelleth of the mirre.

Another wishes, oh for such a face! Nor can I blame her though she did wish so: For sure, were I a wench, t'had bin my case, for nature heere, made both her ioy and woe, And spight that (but herself) commendeth none, Of force must say, this was a rarer one Then either nature did, or ere shall make, whose life holdes vp her age, whose deathe's her wrack.

Eyes like two stars falne from their proper sphears as if they scorn'd the beaten pathes of heauen: Or enuying of beautie of the beares, showne firmer heere, and brighter then the seau[=e] Such was he as was Cupid wont to be In pictures lim'd, and that they may agree, furnish the babe with winges and quiuer light, or from loues God, take wings, and quier quite.

Nought may compare with Time in his swift race the babe ere while feeles now youths hot alarms And as in yeares, so beautious grew his face, that he is fit againe for Ladies armes: Nor Cupid now could wound more dames th[=e] he That Venus who Captiues all, is not free From her own power, she loue's Adonis milde, That Mars doth storm, & wish he were no childe.

Nor Paphos, Amathus nor fishie Gnide, delights she now to haunt, nor Etna now Burnes more then her, she roans the wood so wide after her game, that to his game doth bow. And will not heare or see, for eies and eares, If they her heare or see, their vse forbeares Yet she persues, and leaues her power vn euen on heauen & earth, she loues him more th[=e] heau[=e].

Oft would she say, and bathe those words in tears oh thou fair boy, wold God thou loudst like me but sure thou art not flesh, it well appeares, thou wert the stubborne issue of a tree, So hard thou art, then she a sigh would fet, and wish that Vulcan had not made his net, For boysterous Mars, shee'd fayner ha' bin sped with this choice floure, claspt in her yron bed.

Shee'd nere haue blusht, th[=e] she does make a vow though al the Gods of both worlds had th[=e] seen She raveth that she euer lou'd til now, that she might worthily ha bin loues Queene. wel, wel (quoth she) thou hast reueng'd the spight which from my accurst Sons bow did fowly light On thy faire Mother, O immortall boy, Though thou be faire, tis I that should be coy.

But stay my Muse in thine owne confines keepe, & wage not warre with so deere lou'd a neighbor, But hauing sung thy day song, rest & sleepe preserue thy small fame and his greater fauor: His song was worthie merrit (_Shakspeare_ hee) sung the faire blossome, thou the withered tree _Laurell_ is due to him, his art and wit hath purchast it, _Cypres_ thy brow will fit.

FINIS.

Hiren: _OR_ The faire Greeke:

_By_ William Barksted, _one of_ the seruants of his Maiesties Revels.

Ovid.

----_nonparuas animo dat gloria vires, Et fecunda facit pectora laudis amor._

_LONDON_:

Printed for _Roger Barnes_, and are to be sold at his shop in Chancery lane, ouer against the Rolles. 1611.

TO THE HEROICKE HE ros, Henry Earle of Oxenford, _Vicount Bulbeck_, &c.

_Sir, if my unpolish't pen, that dedicates new The bashfull utterance of a maiden Muse, May gracefully arrive onely to you, Which for her virgin sake, do not refuse, Time, and more studious howers shall we vow, To sing your vertues, which are now profuse. Kings haue drunke water from a louing hand, And truth's accepted, though we paint her poore. The Poets say, the Gods that can command, Haue feasted gladly on a poore mans store, Whereby great Sir, we haue to understand, That humble Riuers adde to the seashore. Liue long and happy, and with gray haires crown'd, Reade thy youths acts, which fame shall euer sound._

Your honors obseruant seruant,

Wil. Barksted.

The faire Greeke.

1

Of _Amuraths_ yong spleenfull sonne I sing, His sonne, who to the Strand of _Hellespont_ And to the great Sea-cost his bounds did bring, Whose Empire so the _Grecians_ did confront, That euen from _Pindus_, and _Thomao_ Mont. From darke _Morea_ to _Corinthian_ streights, From _Burgon_ to _Hungaria's_ broken wing, His Nauy fetch'd contributary freights.

2

Yong _Mahomet_, the wanton of her eie, Which teacheth wars, & caught his nonage daies That gaue such hansell of his tyranny, In those first battails, and apprentize sayes, Which did so hotly dart their early rayes, On _Sigismond_, or that wherein was tane, _Philip_ the noble Duke of _Burgondy_, With him kept prisoner, ô farre better slaine!

3

Yong _Mahomet_ to _Greece_ the fatall scourge, Which thither death, and desolation brought, Euen to the faire _Constantinoples_ veirdge, The _Grecian_ Empires chaire, the which he sought For which a huge digested army fought. And at the last, distressed _Constantine_, And of all Christians did the Citty purge, O shame to _Europes_ Peeres, and Kings diuine.

4

Let _Italy_ take heed, the New-moone threats, To reare his hornes on _Romes_ great Capitall, And doth not _Rome_ deserue such rough defeats, That should be mother of compassion all? And coünite the states, and principall In league, and loue, which now for trifles iarre, The _Persian Sophy_ shames our Christian feats, Who with the _Souldan_ ioynes gainst _Turkish_ war.

5

Had _Constantine_, that three times sacred Prince, Beene rescu'd then by power of Christendome, _Mathias_ neuer should haue cran'd defence, Of _Germans_, _English_, _Spanish_, _France_, and _Rome_, Taxes of warre, to these climes had not come: Nor yet the _Turke_ with all his barbarous hoast, Durst with the Catholikes such war commence, Where now they haue heard their drums, & feard their hoast.

6

Who reads or heares the losse of that great town _Constantinople_ but doth wet his eyes? Where litle babes fr[=o] windows were pusht down Yong Ladies blotted with adulteries, Old fathers scourg'd with all base villanies? O mourne her ruine, and bewish the _Turke_, eternall depriuation of his Crowne, That durst for paganisme such outrage worke.

7