Part 14
Sweet Corrall lips, where Nature's treasure lies, The balme of blisse, the soueraigne salue of sorrow, The secret touch of loues heart-burning arrow, Come quench my thirst or els poor _Daphnis_ dies. One night I dream'd (alas twas but a Dreame) That I did feele the sweetnes of the same, Where-with inspir'd, I young againe became, And from my heart a spring of blood did streame, But when I wak't, I found it nothing so, Saue that my limbs (me thought) did waxe more strong And I more lusty far, and far more yong. This gift on him rich Nature did bestow. Then if in dreaming so, I so did speede, What should I doe, if I did so indeede?
_SONNET. VII._
Sweet _Thames_ I honour thee, not for thou art The chiefest Riuer of the fairest Ile, Nor for thou dost admirers eies beguile, But for thou hold'st the keeper of my heart, For on thy waues, (thy Christal-billow'd waues,) My fairest faire, my siluer Swan is swimming: Against the sunne his pruned feathers trimming: Whilst _Neptune_ his faire feete with water laues, Neptune, I feare not thee, not yet thine eie, And yet (alas) _Apollo_ lou'd a boy, And _Cyparissus_ was _Siluanus_ ioy. No, no, I feare none but faire _Thetis_, I, For if she spie my Loue, (alas) aie me, My mirth is turn'd to extreame miserie.
_SONNET. VIII._
Sometimes I wish that I his pillow were, So might I steale a kisse, and yet not seene, So might I gaze vpon his sleeping eine, Although I did it with a panting feare: But when I well consider how vaine my wish is, Ah foolish Bees (thinke I) that doe not sucke His lips for hony; but poore flowers doe plucke Which haue no sweet in them: when his sole kisses, Are able to reuiue a dying soule. Kisse him, but sting him not, for if you doe, His angry voice your flying will pursue: But when they heare his tongue, what can controule, Their back-returne? for then they plaine may see, How hony-combs from his lips dropping bee.
_SONNET. IX._
_Diana_ (on a time) walking the wood, To sport herselfe, of her faire traine forlorne, Chaunc't for to pricke her foote against a thorne, And from thence issu'd out a streame of blood. No sooner shee was vanisht out of sight, But loues faire Queen came there away by chance, And hauing of this hap a glym'ring glance, She put the blood into a christall bright, When being now come vnto mount _Rhodope_, With her faire hands she formes a shape of Snow, And blends it with this blood; from whence doth grow A lonely creature, brighter than the Dey. And being christned in faire _Paphos_ shrine, She call'd him _Ganymede:_ as all diuine.
_SONNET. X._
Thus was my loue, thus was my _Ganymed_, (Heauens ioy, worlds wonder, natures fairest work, In whose aspect Hope and Dispaire doe lurke) Made of pure blood in whitest snow yshed, And for sweete _Venus_ only form'd his face, And his each member delicately framed, And last of all faire _Ganymede_ him named, His limbs (as their Creatrix) her imbrace. But as for his pure, spotles, vertuous minde, Because it sprung of chaste _Dianaes_ blood, (Goddesse of Maides, directresse of all good,) Hit wholy is to chastity inclinde. And thus it is: as far as I can proue, He loues to be beloued, but not to loue.
_SONNET XI._
Sighing, and sadly sitting by my Loue, He ask't the cause of my hearts sorrowing, Coniuring me by heauens eternall King To tell the cause which me so much did moue. Compell'd: (quoth I) to thee will I confesse, Loue is the cause; and only loue it is That doth depriue me of my heauenly blisse. Loue is the paine that doth my heart oppresse. And what is she (quoth he) whom thou dos't loue? Looke in this glasse (quoth I) there shalt thou see The perfect forme of my fælicitie. When, thinking that it would strange Magique proue He open'd it: and taking of the couer, He straight perceau'd himselfe to be my Louer.
_SONNET. XII._
Some talke of _Ganymede_ th' _Idalian_ Boy, And some of faire _Adonis_ make their boast, Some talke of him whom louely _Læda_ lost, And some of _Ecchoes_ loue that was so coy. They speake by heere-say, I of perfect truth, They partially commend the persons named, And for them, sweet Encomions haue framed: I onely t'him haue sacrifized my youth. As for those wonders of antiquitie, And those whom later ages haue inioy'd, (But ah what hath not cruell death destroide? Death, that enuies this worlds felicitie), They were (perhaps) lesse faire then Poets write. But he is fairer then I can indite.
_SONNET. XIII._
Speake Eccho, tell; how may I call my loue? _Loue._ But how his Lamps that are so christaline? _Eyne._ Oh happy starrs that make your heauens diuine: And happy Iems that admiration moue. How tearm'st his golden tresses wau'd with aire? _Haire._ Oh louely haire of your more-louely Maister, Image of loue, faire shape of Alablaster, Why do'st thou driue thy Louer to dispaire? How do'st thou cal the bed wher beuty grows? _Rose._ Faire virgine-Rose, whose mayden blossoms couer The milke-white Lilly, thy imbracing Louer: Whose kisses makes thee oft thy red to lose. And blushing oft for shame, when he hath kist thee, He vades away, and thou raing'st where it list thee.
_SONNET. XIIII._
Here, hold this gloue (this milk-white cheueril gloue) Not quaintly ouer-wrought with curious knots, Not deckt with golden spangs, nor siluer spots, Yet wholsome for thy hand as thou shalt proue. Ah no; (sweet boy) place this gloue neere thy heart, Weare it, and lodge it still within thy brest, So shalt thou make me (most vnhappy,) blest. So shalt thou rid my paine, and ease my smart: How can that be (perhaps) thou wilt reply, A gloue is for the hand not for the heart, Nor can it well be prou'd by common art, Nor reasons rule. To this, thus answere I: If thou from gloue do'st take away the g, Then gloue is loue: and so I send it thee.
_SONNET. XV._
A[h] fairest _Ganymede_, disdaine me not, Though silly Sheepeheard I, presume to loue thee, Though my harsh songs and Sonnets cannot moue thee, Yet to thy beauty is my loue no blot. _Apollo_, _Ioue_, and many Gods beside, S' daind not the name of cuntry shepheards swains Nor want we pleasure, though we take some pains, We liue contentedly: a thing call'd pride, Which so corrupts the Court and euery place, (Each place I meane where learning is neglected, And yet of late, euen learnings selfe's infected) I know not what it meanes, in any case: Wee onely (when _Molorchus_ gins to peepe) Learne for to folde, and to vnfold our sheepe.
_SONNET. XVI._
Long haue I long'd to see my Loue againe, Still haue I wisht, but neuer could obtaine it; Rather than all the world (if I might gaine it) Would I desire my loues sweet precious gaine. Yet in my soule I see him euerie day, See him, and see his still sterne countenaunce, But (ah) what is of long continuance, Where Maiestie and Beautie beares the sway? Sometimes, when I imagine that I see him, (As loue is full of foolish fantasies) VVeening to kisse his lips, as my loues fee's, I feele but Aire: nothing but Aire to bee him. Thus with _Ixion_, kisse I clouds in vaine: Thus with _Ixion_, feele I endles paine.
_SONNET. XVII._
Cherry-lipt _Adonis_ in his snowie shape, Might not compare with his pure Iuorie white, On whose faire front a Poets pen may write, Whose rosiate red excels the crimson grape, His loue-enticing delicate soft limbs, Are rarely fram'd t'intrap poore gazing eies: His cheekes, the Lillie and Carnation dies, With louely tincture which _Apolloes_ dims. His lips ripe strawberries in Nectar wet, His mouth a Hiue, his tongue a hony-combe, Where Muses (like Bees) make their mansion. His teeth pure Pearle in blushing Correll set. Oh how can such a body sinne-procuring, Be slow to loue, and quicke to hate, enduring?
_SONNET. XVIII._
Not _Megabætes_ nor _Cleonymus_, (Of whom great _Plutarch_ makes such mention, Praysing their faire with rare inuention) As _Ganymede_ were halfe so beauteous. They onely pleas'd the eies of two great Kings, But all the worlde at my loue stands amazed, Nor one that on his Angels face hath gazed, But (rauisht with delight) him Presents brings. Some weaning Lambs, and some a suckling Kyd, Some Nuts, and fil-beards, others Peares and Plums, Another with a milk-white Heyfar comes; As lately _Ægons_ man (_Damætas_) did: But neither he, nor all the Nymphs beside, Can win my _Ganymede_, with them t'abide.
_SONNET. XIX._
Ah no; nor I my selfe: though my pure loue (Sweete _Ganymede_) to thee hath still beene pure, And euen till my last gaspe shall aie endure, Could euer thy obdurate beuty moue: Then cease oh Goddesse sonne (for sure thou art, A Goddesse sonne that canst resist desire) Cease thy hard heart, and entertaine loues fire, Within thy sacred breast: by Natures art. And as I loue thee more then any Creature, (Loue thee, because thy beautie is diuine; Loue thee, because my selfe, my soule is thine: Wholie deuoted to thy louelie feature), Euen so of all the vowels, I and V, Are dearest vnto me, as doth ensue.
_SONNET. XX._
But now my Muse toyld with continuall care, Begins to faint, and slacke her former pace, Expecting fauour from that heauenly grace, That maie (in time) her feeble strength repaire. Till when (sweete youth) th'essence of my soule, (Thou that dost sit and sing at my hearts griefe. Thou that dost send thy shepheard no reliefe) Beholde, these lines; the sonnes of Teares and Dole. Ah had great _Colin_ chiefe of sheepheards all, Or gentle _Rowland_, my professed friend, Had they thy beautie, or my pennance pend, Greater had beene thy fame, and lesse my fall: But since that euerie one cannot be wittie, Pardon I craue of them, and of thee, pitty.
FINIS.
_AN ODE._
Nights were short, and daies were long; Blossoms on the Hauthorn's hung: _Philomœle_ (Night-Musiques-King) Tolde the comming of the spring. Whose sweete siluer-sounding voice Made the little birds reioice: Skipping light from spray to spray, Till _Aurora_ shew'd the day. Scarce might one see, when I might see (For such chaunces sudden bee) By a well of Marble-stone A Shepheard lying all alone. Weepe he did; and his weeping Made the fading flowers spring. _Daphnis_ was his name (I weene) Youngest Swaine of Summers Queene. When _Aurora_ saw 'twas he. Weepe she did for companie: Weepe she did for her sweete sonne That (when antique _Troy_ was wonne) Suffer'd death by lucklesse fate, Whom she now laments too late: And each morning (by Cocks crew) Showers downe her siluer dew. Whose teares (falling from their spring) Giue moysture to each liuing thing, That on earth increase and grow, Through power of their friendlie foe. Whose effect when _Flora_ felt, Teares, that did her bosome melt, (For who can resist teares often, But Shee whom no teares can soften?) Peering straite aboue the banks, Shew'd herselfe to giue her thanks. Wondring thus at Natures worke, (Wherein many maruailes lurke) Me thought I heard a dolefull noise, Consorted with a mournfull voice, Drawing nie to heare more plaine, Heare I did, vnto my paine, (For who is not pain'd to heare Him in griefe whom heart holdes deare?) Silly swaine (with griefe ore-gone) Thus to make his piteous mone. Loue I did, (alas the while) Loue I did, but did beguile My deare loue with louing so, (VVhom as then I did not know.) Loue I did the fairest boy, That these fields did ere enioy. Loue I did, fair _Ganymed;_ (_Venus_ darling, beauties bed:) Him I thought the fairest creature; Him the quintessence of Nature: But yet (alas) I was deceiu'd, (Loue of reason is bereau'd) For since then I saw a Lasse. (Lasse) that did in beauty passe, (Passe) faire _Ganymede_ as farre As _Phœbus_ doth the smallest starre. Loue commaunded me to loue; Fancy bade me not remoue My affection from the swaine Which he cannot graunt the crauer?) Loue at last (though loath) preuailde; (Loue) that so my heart assailde; Whom I neuer could obtaine: (For who can obtaine that fauour, Wounding me with her faire eies, (Ah how Loue can subtelize, And deuize a thousand shifts, How to worke men to his drifts.) Her it is, for whom I mourne; Her, for whom my life I scorne; Her, for whom I weepe all day; Her, for whom I sigh, and say, Either She, or els no creature, Shall enioy my loue: whose feature Though I neuer can obtaine, Yet shall my true loue remaine: Till (my body turn'd to clay) My poore soule must passe away, To the heauens; where (I hope) Hit shall finde a resting scope: Then since I loued thee (alone) Remember me when I am gone. Scarce had he these last words spoken, But me thought his heart was broken; With great griefe that did abound, (Cares and griefe the heart confound) In whose heart (thus riu'd in three) ELIZA written I might see: In Caracters of crimson blood, (VVhose meaning well I vnderstood.) Which, for my heart might not behold, I hyed me home my sheep to folde.
FINIS.
_CASSANDRA._
Vpon a gorgious gold embossed bed, With Tissue curtaines drawne against the sunne, (Which gazers eies into amazement led, So curiously the workmanship was done,) Lay faire _Cassandra_, in her snowie smocke, Whose lips the Rubies and the pearles did locke.
And from her Iuory front hung dangling downe, A bush of long and louely curled haire; VVhose head impalled with a precious Crowne Of orient Pearle, made her to seeme more faire: And yet more faire she hardly could be thought, Then Loue and Nature in her face had wrought.
By this, young _Phœbus_ rising from the East, Had tane a view of this rare Paragon: Wherewith he soone his radiant beames addresst, And with great ioy her (sleeping) gazed vpon: Til at the last, through her light cazements cleare, He stole a kisse; and softly call'd her Deare.
Yet not so softly but (therwith awak't,) Shee gins to open her faire christall couers, Wherewith the wounded God, for terror quakt, (Viewing those darts that kill disdained louers:) And blushing red to see himselfe so shamed He scorns his Coach, and his owne beauty blamed.
Now with a trice he leaues the azure skies, (As whilome _Ioue_ did at _Europaes_ rape,) And rauisht with her loue-a[l]luring eies, He turns himselfe into a humane shape: And that his wish the sooner might ensue, He sutes himselfe like one of _Venus_ crew.
Vpon his head he wore a Hunters hat Of crimson veluet, spangd with stars of gold, Which grac'd his louely face: and ouer that A siluer hatband ritchly to behold: On his left shoulder hung a loose Tyara, As whilome vs'd faire _Penthesilea_.
Faire _Penthesilea_ th' _Amazonian_ Queene, When she to Troy came with her warlike band, Of braue Viragoes glorious to be scene; Whose manlike force no power might withstand: So look't _Apollo_ in his lonely weedes, As he vnto the Troian Damzell speedes.
Not faire, _Adonis_ in his chiefest pride, Did seeme more faire, then young _Apollo_ seemed, When he through th'aire inuisibly did glide, T'obtaine his Loue, which he Angelike deemed; Whom finding in her chamber all alone, He thus begins t'expresse his piteous mone.
O fairest, faire, aboue all faires (quoth hee) If euer Loue obtained Ladies fauour, Then shew thy selfe compassionate to me, Whose head surpriz'd with thy diuine behauior, Yeelds my selfe captiue to thy conqu'ring eies: O then shew mercy, do not tyrannize.
Scarce had _Apollo_ vtter'd these last words (Rayning downe pearle from his immortall eies) When she for answere, naught but feare affords, Filling the place with lamentable cries: But _Phœbus_ fearing much these raging fits, With sugred kisses sweetely charm'd her lips.
(And tells her softly in her softer eare) That he a God is, and no mortall creature: Wherewith abandoning all needlesse feare, (A common frailtie of weake womans nature) She boldly askes him of his deitie, Gracing her question with her wanton eie.
Which charge to him no sooner was assignde, But taking faire _Cassandra_ by the hand (The true bewraier of his secrete minde) He first begins to let her vnderstand, That he from _Demogorgon_ was descended: Father of th'Earth, of Gods and men commended.
The tenor of which tale he now recites, Closing each period with a rauisht kisse: Which kindnes, she vnwillingly requites, Conioyning oft her Corrall lips to his: Not that she lou'd the loue of any one; But that she meant to cozen him anone.
Hee briefly t'her relates his pedegree: The sonne of _Ioue_, sole guider of the sunne, He that slue _Python_ so victoriouslie, He that the name of wisdomes God hath wonne, The God of Musique, and of Poetry: Of Phisicke, Learning, and Chirurgery.
All which he eloquently reckons vp, That she might know how great a God he was: And being charm'd with _Cupid's_ golden cup He partiallie vnto her praise doth passe, Calling her tipe of honour, Queen of beauty: To whom all eies owe tributary duety.
I loued once, (quoth hee) aie me I lou'd, As faire a shape as euer nature framed: Had she not been so hard t'haue beene remou'd, By birth a sea-Nymph; cruell _Daphne_ named: Whom, for shee would not to my will agree, The Gods transform'd into a Laurell tree.
Ah therefore be not, (with that word he kist her) Be not (quot[h] he) so proud as _Daphne_ was: Ne care thou for the anger of my sister, She cannot, nay she shall not hurt my _Cass:_ For if she doe, I vow (by dreadfull night) Neuer againe to lend her of my light.
This said: he sweetly doth imbrace his loue, Yoaking his armes about her Iuory necke: And calls her wanton _Venus_ milk-white Doue, VVhose ruddie lips the damaske roses decke. And euer as his tongue compiles her praise, Loue daintie Dimples in her cheekes doth raise.
And meaning now to worke her stratagem Vpon the silly God, that thinks none ill, She hugs him in her armes, and kisses him; (Th'easlyer to intice him to her will.) And being not able to maintaine the feeld, Thus she begins (or rather seemes) to yeeld.
VVoon with thy words, and rauisht with my beauty, Loe here _Cassandra_ yeelds her selfe to thee, Requiring nothing for thy vowed duety, But only firmnesse, Loue, and secrecy: Which for that now (euen now) I meane to try thee, A boone I crave; which thou canst not deny me.
Scarce were these honywords breath'd from her lips, But he, supposing that she ment good-faith, Her filed tongues temptations interceps; And (like a Nouice,) thus to her he saith: Aske what thou wilt, and I will giue it thee; Health, wealth, long life, wit, art, or dignitie.
Here-with she blushing red, (for shame did adde A crimson tincture to her palish hew,) Seeming in outward semblance passing glad, (As one that th'end of her petition knew) She makes him sweare by vgly _Acheron_, That he his promise should performe anon.
Which done: relying on his sacred oath, She askes of him the gift of prophecie: He (silent) giues consent: though seeming loath To grant so much to fraile mortalitie: But since that he his vowes maie not recall, He giues to her the sp'rite propheticall.
But she no sooner had obtain'd her wish, VVhen straite vnpris'ning her lasciuiuous armes From his softe bosom (th'aluary of blisse) She chastely counterchecks loues hote alarmes: And fearing lest his presence might offend her, She slips aside; and (absent) doth defend her.
(_Muliere ne credas, ne mortuæ quidem._)
Looke how a brightsome Planet in the skie, (Spangling the Welkin with a golden spot) Shootes suddenly from the beholders eie, And leaues him looking there where she is not: Euen so amazed _Phœbus_ (to descrie her) Lookes all about, but no where can espie her.
Not th'hungry Lyon, hauing lost his pray, With greater furie runneth through the wood, (Making no signe of momentarie staie, Till he haue satisfi'd himslfe with blood,) Then angry _Phœbus_ mounts into the skie: Threatning the world with his hot-burning eie.
Now nimbly to his glist'ring Coach he skips, And churlishlie ascends his loftie chaire, Yerking his head strong Iades with yron whips, Whose fearefull neighing ecchoes through the aire, Snorting out fierie Sulphure from theire nosethrils: Whose deadly damp the worlds poore people kils.
Him leaue me (for a while) amids the heauens, VVreaking his anger on his sturdie steedes: Whose speedful course the day and night now eeuens, (The earth dis-robed of her summer weedes) And nowe black-mantled night with her browne vaile, Couers each thing that all the world might quaile.
When loe, _Cassandra_ lying at her rest, (Her rest were restlesse thoughts:) it so befell, Her minde with multitude of cares opprest, Requir'd some sleepe her passions to expell: Which when sad _Morpheus_ will did vnderstand, He clos'd her eie-lids with his leaden hand.
Now sleepeth shee: and as shee sleepes, beholde; Shee seemes to see the God whom late shee wronged Standing before her; whose fierce looks vnfold, His hidden wrath (to whom iust ire belonged) Seeing, shee sighs, and sighing quak't for feare, To see the shaddow of her shame appeare.
Betwixt amaze and dread as shee thus stands, The fearefull vision drew more neere vnto her: Aud pynioning her armes in captiue bands So sure, that mortall wight may not vndoe her, He with a bloudy knife (oh cruell part,) With raging fury stabd her to the heart.
Heerewith awaking from her slumbring sleepe, (For feare, and care, are enemies to rest:) At such time as _Aurora_ gins to peepe And shew her selfe; far orient in the East: Shee heard a voice which said: O wicked woman, Why dost thou stil the gods to vengeance summon?