Part 48

THE END OF THE HYMN TO HERMES.

A Hymn to Venus (First Hymn)

The force, O Muse, and functions now unfold Of Cyprian Venus, grac’d with mines of gold; Who even in Deities lights love’s sweet desire, And all Death’s kinds of men makes kiss her fire, All air’s wing’d nation, all the belluine, That or the earth feeds, or the seas confine. To all which appertain the love and care Of well-crown’d Venus’ works. Yet three there are Whose minds She neither can deceive nor move; Pallas, the Seed of Ægis-bearing Jove, Who still lives indevirginate, her eyes Being blue, and sparkling like the freezing skies, Whom all the gold of Venus never can Tempt to affect her facts with God or man. She, loving strife, and Mars’s working banes, Pitch’d fields and fights, and famous artizans, Taught earthy men first all the arts that are, Chariots, and all the frames vehicular, Chiefly with brass arm’d, and adorn’d for war. Where Venus only soft-skinn’d wenches fills With wanton house-works, and suggests those skills Still to their studies. Whom Diana neither, That bears the golden distaff, and together Calls horns, and hollows, and the cries of hounds, And owns the epithet of loving sounds For their sakes, springing from such spritely sports, Can catch with her kind lures; but hill resorts To wild-beasts, slaughters, accents far-off heard Of harps and dances, and of woods unshear’d The sacred shades she loves, yet likes as well Cities where good men and their offspring dwell. The third, whom her kind passions nothing please, Is virgin Vesta; whom Saturnides Made reverend with his counsels, when his Sire, That adverse counsels agitates, life’s fire Had kindled in her, being his last-begot. Whom Neptune woo’d to knit with him the knot Of honour’d nuptials, and Apollo too; Which with much vehemence she refused to do, And stern repulses put upon them both, Adding to all her vows the Gods’ great oath, And touching Jove’s chin, which must consummate All vows so bound, that she would hold her state, And be th’ invincible Maid of Deities Through all her days’ dates. For Saturnides Gave her a fair gift in her nuptials’ stead, To sit in midst of his house, and be fed With all the free and richest feast of heaven, In all the temples of the Gods being given The prize of honour. Not a mortal man, (That either, of the Pow’rs Olympian His half-birth having, may be said to be A mortal of the Gods, or else that he, Deities’ wills doing, is of Deity) But gives her honour of the amplest kind. Of all these three can Venus not a mind Deceive, or set on forces to reflect. Of all Pow’rs else yet, not a sex, nor sect, Flies Venus; either of the blessed Gods, Or men confin’d in mortal periods. But even the mind of Jove she doth seduce, That chides with thunder so her lawless use In human creatures, and by lot is given Of all most honour, both in earth and heaven. And yet even his all-wise and mighty mind She, when she lists, can forge affects to blind, And mix with mortal dames his Deity, Conceal’d at all parts from the jealous eye Of Juno, who was both his sister born, And made his wife; whom beauty did adorn Past all the bevy of Immortal Dames, And whose so chiefly-glorified flames Cross-counsell’d Saturn got, and Rhæa bore, And Jove’s pure counsels (being conqueror) His wife made of his sister. Ay, and more, Cast such an amorous fire into her mind As made her (like him) with the mortal kind Meet in unmeet bed; using utmost haste, Lest she should know that he lived so unchaste, Before herself felt that fault in her heart, And gave her tongue too just edge of desert To tax his lightness. With this end, beside, Lest laughter-studying Venus should deride The Gods more than the Goddesses, and say That she the Gods commix’d in amorous play With mortal dames, begetting mortal seed T’ immortal sires, and not make Goddesses breed The like with mortal fathers. But, t’ acquite Both Gods and Goddesses of her despite, Jove took (even in herself) on him her pow’r, And made her with a mortal paramour Use as deform’d a mixture as the rest; Kindling a kind affection in her breast To God-like-limb’d Anchises, as he kept, On Ida’s top-on-top-to-heaven’s-pole-heapt,[1] Amongst the many fountains there, his herd. For, after his brave person had appear’d To her bright eye, her heart flew all on fire, And to amaze she burn’d in his desire, Flew straight to Cyprus, to her odorous fane And altars, that the people Paphian Advanced to her. Where, soon as enter’d, she The shining gates shut; and the Graces three Wash’d, and with oils of everlasting scent Bathed, as became, her deathless lineament. Then her ambrosian mantle she assum’d, With rich and odoriferous airs perfum’d. Which being put on, and all her trims beside Fair, and with all allurements amplified, The all-of-gold-made laughter-loving Dame Left odorous Cyprus, and for Troy became A swift contendress, her pass cutting all Along the clouds, and made her instant fall On fountful Ida, that her mother-breasts Gives to the preyful brood of savage beasts. And through the hill she went the ready way T’ Anchises’ oxstall, where did fawn and play About her blessed feet wolves grisly-gray, Terrible lions, many a mankind bear, And lybberds swift, insatiate of red deer. Whose sight so pleas’d, that, ever as she past, Through every beast a kindly love she cast, That, in their dens obscured with shadows deep, Made all, distinguish’d in kind couples, sleep. And now she reach’d the rich pavilion Of the heroë, in whom heavens had shown A fair and goodly composition, And whom she in his oxstall found, alone, His oxen feeding in fat pastures by, He walking up and down, sounds clear and high From his harp striking. Then before him she Stood like a virgin, that invincibly Had borne her beauties; yet alluringly Bearing her person, lest his ravish’d eye Should chance t’ affect him with a stupid fear. Anchises seeing her, all his senses were With wonder stricken, and high-taken heeds Both of her form, brave stature, and rich weeds. For, for a veil, she shin’d in an attire That cast a radiance past the ray of fire. Beneath which wore she, girt to her, a gown Wrought all with growing-rose-buds, reaching down T’ her slender smalls, which buskins did divine, Such as taught Thetis’ silver feet to shine. Her soft white neck rich carquenets embraced, Bright, and with gold in all variety graced, That to her breasts let down lay there and shone, As, at her joyful full, the rising Moon. Her sight show’d miracles. Anchises’ heart Love took into his hand, and made him part With these high salutations; “Joy, O Queen! Whoever of the Blest thy beauties been That light these entries; or the Deity That darts affecteth; or that gave the Eye Of heaven his heat and lustre; or that moves The hearts of all with all-commanding loves; Or generous Themis; or the blue-eyed Maid; Or of the Graces any that are laid With all the Gods in comparable scales, And whom fame up to immortality calls; Or any of the Nymphs, that unshorn groves, Or that this fair hill-habitation, loves, Or valleys flowing with earth’s fattest goods, Or fountains pouring forth eternal floods! Say, which of all thou art, that in some place Of circular prospect, for thine eyes’ dear grace, I may an altar build, and to thy pow’rs Make sacred all the year’s devoted hours, With consecrations sweet and opulent. Assur’d whereof, be thy benign mind bent To these wish’d blessings of me: Give me parts Of chief attraction in Trojan hearts; And, after, give me the refulgency Of most renown’d and rich posterity; Long, and free life, and heaven’s sweet light as long; The people’s blessings, and a health so strong That no disease it let my life engage, Till th’ utmost limit of a human age.” To this Jove’s Seed this answer gave again; “Anchises! Happiest of the human strain! I am no Goddess! Why, a thrall to death Think’st thou like those that immortality breathe? A woman brought me forth; my father’s name Was Otreüs, if ever his high fame Thine ears have witness’d, for he govern’d all The Phrygian state, whose every town a wall Impregnable embrac’d. Your tongue, you hear, I speak so well, that in my natural sphere (As I pretend) it must have taken prime. A woman, likewise, of the Trojan clime Took of me, in her house, the nurse’s care From my dear mother’s bosom; and thus are My words of equal accent with your own. How here I come, to make the reason known, Argicides, that bears the golden rod, Transferr’d me forcibly from my abode Made with the maiden train of Her that joys In golden shafts, and loves so well the noise Of hounds and hunters (heaven’s pure-living Pow’r) Where many a nymph and maid of mighty dow’r Chaste sports employ’d, all circled with a crown Of infinite multitude, to see so shown Our maiden pastimes. Yet, from all the fair Of this so forceful concourse, up in air The golden-rod-sustaining Argus’-Guide Rapt me in sight of all, and made me ride Along the clouds with him, enforcing me Through many a labour of mortality, Through many an unbuilt region, and a rude, Where savage beasts devour’d preys warm and crude, And would not let my fears take one foot’s tread On Her by whom are all lives comforted, But said my maiden state must grace the bed Of king Anchises, and bring forth to thee Issue as fair as of divine degree. Which said, and showing me thy moving grace, Away flew he up to th’ Immortal Race, And thus came I to thee; Necessity, With her steel stings, compelling me t’ apply To her high pow’r my will. But you must I Implore by Jove, and all the reverence due To your dear parents, who, in bearing you, Can bear no mean sail, lead me home to them An untouch’d maid, being brought up in th’ extreme Of much too cold simplicity to know The fiery cunnings that in Venus glow. Show me to them then, and thy brothers born, I shall appear none that parts disadorn, But such as well may serve a brother’s wife, And show them now, even to my future life, If such or no my present will extend. To horse-breed-vary’ng Phrygia likewise send, T’ inform my sire and mother of my state, That live for me extreme disconsolate; Who gold enough, and well-woven weeds, will give. All whose rich gifts in my amends receive. All this perform’d, and celebration then Of honour’d nuptials, that by God and men Are held in reverence.” All this while she said, Into his bosom jointly she convey’d The fires of love; when, all-enamour’d, he In these terms answer’d: “If mortality Confine thy fortunes, and a woman were Mother to those attractions that appear In thy admir’d form, thy great father given High name of Otreüs; and the Spy of heaven (Immortal Mercury) th’ enforceful cause That made thee lose the prize of that applause That modesty immaculate virgins gives, My wife thou shalt be call’d through both our lives. Nor shall the pow’rs of men nor Gods withhold My fiery resolution to enfold Thy bosom in mine arms; which here I vow To firm performance, past delay, and now. Nor, should Apollo with his silver bow Shoot me to instant death, would I forbear To do a deed so full of cause so dear. For with a heaven-sweet woman I will lie, Though straight I stoop the house of Dis, and die.” This said, he took her hand, and she took way With him, her bright eyes casting round; whose stay She stuck upon a bed, that was before Made for the king, and wealthy coverings wore. On which bears’ hides and big-voic’d lions’ lay, Whose preyful lives the king had made his prey, Hunting th’ Idalian hills. This bed when they Had both ascended, first he took from her The fiery weed, that was her utmost wear; Unbutton’d her next rosy robe; and loos’d The girdle that her slender waist enclos’d; Unlac’d her buskins; all her jewelry Took from her neck and breasts, and all laid by Upon a golden-studded chair of state. Th’ amaze of all which being remov’d, even Fate And council of the equal Gods gave way To this, that with a deathless Goddess lay A deathful man; since, what his love assum’d, Not with his conscious knowledge was presum’d. Now when the shepherds and the herdsmen, all, Turn’d from their flow’ry pasture to their stall, With all their oxen, fat and frolic sheep, Venus into Anchises cast a sleep, Sweet and profound; while with her own hands now With her rich weeds she did herself endow; But so distinguish’d, that he clear might know His happy glories; then (to her desire Her heavenly person put in trims entire) She by the bed stood of the well-built stall, Advanc’d her head to state celestial, And in her cheeks arose the radiant hue Of rich-crown’d Venus to apparent view. And then she rous’d him from his rest, and said: “Up, my Dardanides, forsake thy bed. What pleasure, late employ’d, lets humour steep Thy lids in this inexcitable sleep? Wake, and now say, if I appear to thee Like her that first thine eyes conceited me.” This started him from sleep, though deep and dear, And passing promptly he enjoy’d his ear. But when his eye saw Venus’ neck and eyes, Whose beauties could not bear the counterprise Of any other, down his own eyes fell, Which pallid fear did from her view repell, And made him, with a main respect beside, Turn his whole person from her state, and hide (With his rich weed appos’d) his royal face, These wing’d words using: “When, at first, thy grace Mine eyes gave entertainment, well I knew Thy state was deified; but thou told’st not true; And therefore let me pray thee (by thy love Borne to thy father, Ægis-bearing Jove) That thou wilt never let me live to be An abject, after so divine degree Taken in fortune, but take ruth on me, For any man that with a Goddess lies, Of interest in immortalities, Is never long-liv’d.” She replied: “Forbear, O happiest of mortal men, this fear, And rest assured, that (not for me, at least) Thy least ills fear fits; no, nor for the rest Of all the Blessed, for thou art their friend; And so far from sustaining instant end, That to thy long-enlarg’d life there shall spring Amongst the Trojans a dear son, and king, To whom shall many a son, and son’s son, rise In everlasting great posterities; His name Æneas; therein keeping life, For ever, in my much-conceited grief, That I, immortal, fell into the bed Of one whose blood mortality must shed. But rest thou comforted, and all the race That Troy shall propagate, in this high grace: That, past all races else, the Gods stand near Your glorious nation, for the forms ye bear, And natures so ingenuous and sincere. For which, the great-in-counsels (Jupiter) Your gold-lock’d Ganymedes did transfer (In rapture far from men’s depressed fates) To make him consort with our Deified States, And scale the tops of the Saturnian skies, He was so mere a marvel in their eyes. And therefore from a bowl of gold he fills Red nectar, that the rude distension kills Of winds that in your human stomachs breed. But then did languor on the liver feed Of Tros, his father, that was king of Troy, And ever did his memory employ[2] With loss of his dear beauty so bereaven, Though with a sacred whirlwind rapt to heaven. But Jove, in pity of him, saw him given Good compensation, sending by Heaven’s Spy White-swift-hov’d horse, that Immortality Had made firm-spirited; and had, beside, Hermes to see his ambassy supplied With this vow’d bounty (using all at large That his unalter’d counsels gave in charge) That he himself should immortality breathe, Expert of age and woe as well as death. “This ambassy express’d, he mourn’d no more, But up with all his inmost mind he bore, Joying that he, upon his swift-hov’d horse, Should be sustain’d in an eternal course.” “So did the golden-throned Aurora raise, Into her lap, another that the praise Of an immortal fashion had in fame, And of your nation bore the noble name, (His title Tithon) who, not pleased with her, As she his lovely person did transfer, To satisfy him, she bade ask of Jove The gift of an Immortal for her love. Jove gave, and bound it with his bowed brow, Performing to the utmost point his vow. Fool that she was, that would her love engage, And not as long ask from the bane of age The sweet exemption, and youth’s endless flow’r! Of which as long as both the grace and pow’r His person entertain’d, she loved the man, And (at the fluents of the ocean Near Earth’s extreme bounds) dwelt with him; but when According to the course of aged men) On his fair head, and honourable beard, His first grey hairs to her light eyes appear’d, She left his bed, yet gave him still for food The Gods’ ambrosia, and attire as good. Till even the hate of age came on so fast That not a lineament of his was grac’d With pow’r of motion, nor did still sustain, Much less, the vigour had t’ advance a vein, The virtue lost in each exhausted limb, That at his wish before would answer him; All pow’rs so quite decay’d, that when he spake His voice no perceptible accent brake. Her counsel then thought best to strive no more, But lay him in his bed and lock his door. Such an Immortal would not I wish thee, T’ extend all days so to eternity. But if, as now, thou couldst perform thy course In grace of form, and all corporeal force, To an eternal date, thou then shouldst bear My husband’s worthy name, and not a tear Should I need rain, for thy deserts declin’d, From my all-clouded bitterness of mind. But now the stern storm of relentless age Will quickly circle thee, that waits t’ engage All men alike, even loathsomeness, and bane Attending with it, every human wane, Which even the Gods hate. Such a penance lies Impos’d on flesh and blood’s infirmities! Which I myself must taste in great degree, And date as endless, for consorting thee. All the Immortals with my opprobry Are full by this time; on their hearts so lie, (Even to the sting of fear) my cunnings us’d, And wiving conversations infus’d Into the bosoms of the best of them With women, that the frail and mortal stream Doth daily ravish. All this long since done. Which now no more, but with effusion Of tears, I must in heaven so much as name, I have so forfeited in this my fame, And am impos’d pain of so great a kind For so much erring from a Goddess’ mind. For I have put beneath my girdle here A son, whose sire the human mortal sphere Gives circumscription. But, when first the light His eyes shall comfort, Nymphs that haunt the height Of hills, and breasts have of most deep receipt; Shall be his nurses; who inhabit now A hill of so vast and divine a brow, As man nor God can come at their retreats; Who live long lives, and eat immortal meats, And with Immortals in the exercise Of comely dances dare contend, and rise Into high question which deserves the prize. The light Sileni mix in love with these, And, of all Spies the Prince, Argicides; In well-trimm’d caves their secret meetings made. And with the lives of these doth life invade Or odorous fir-trees, or high-foreheaded oaks, Together taking their begetting strokes, And have their lives and deaths of equal dates, Trees bearing lovely and delightsome states, Whom Earth first feeds, that men initiates. On her high hills she doth their states sustain, And they their own heights raise as high again. Their growths together made, Nymphs call their groves Vow’d to th’ Immortals services and loves; Which men’s steels therefore touch not, but let grow. But when wise Fates times for their fadings know, The fair trees still before the fair Nymphs die, The bark about them grown corrupt and dry, And all their boughs fall’n yield to Earth her right; And then the Nymphs’ lives leave the lovely night, “And these Nymphs in their caves shall nurse my son, Whom (when in him youth’s first grace is begun) The Nymphs, his nurses, shall present to thee; And show thee what a birth thou hast by me. And, sure as now I tell thee all these things, When Earth hath cloth’d her plants in five fair springs, Myself will make return to this retreat, And bring that flow’r of thy enamour’d heat; Whom when thou then seest, joy shall fire thine eyes; He shall so well present the Deities. And then into thine own care take thy son From his calm seat to windy Ilion, Where, if strict question be upon the past, Asking what mother bore beneath her waist So dear a son, answer, as I afford Fit admonition, nor forget a word: They say a Nymph, call’d Calucopides, That is with others an inhabitress On this thy wood-crown’d hill, acknowledges That she his life gave. But, if thou declare The secret’s truth, and art so mad to dare (In glory of thy fortunes) to approve That rich-crown’d Venus mix’d with thee in love, Jove, fired with my aspersion so dispread, Will with a wreakful lightning dart thee dead. “All now is told thee, comprehend it all. Be master of thyself, and do not call My name in question; but with reverence vow To Deities’ angers all the awe ye owe.” This said, She reach’d heaven, where airs ever flow. And so, O Goddess, ever honour’d be, In thy so odorous Cyprian empery! My Muse, affecting first thy fame to raise, Shall make transcension now to others’ praise.

THE END OF THE FIRST HYMN TO VENUS

[1] _᾿Ακροπόλος. Altissimum habens verticem, cujus summitas ipsum polum attingit._

[2] _ἄληστος. Cujus memoria erit perpetua._

A Hymn to Venus (Second Hymn)

The reverend, rich-crown’d, and fair Queen I sing, Venus, that owes ill fate the fortressing Of all maritimal Cyprus; where the force Of gentle-breathing Zephyr steer’d her course Along the waves of the resounding sea, While, yet unborn, in that soft foam she lay That brought her forth; whom those fair Hours that bear The golden bridles joyfully stood near, Took up into their arms, and put on her Weeds of a never-corruptible wear. On her immortal head a crown they plac’d, Elaborate, and with all the beauties grac’d That gold could give it; of a weight so great, That, to impose and take off, it had set Three handles on it, made, for endless hold, Of shining brass, and all adorn’d with gold. Her soft neck all with carquenets was grac’d, That stoop’d, and both her silver breasts embrac’d, Which even the Hours themselves wear in resort To Deities’ dances, and her Father’s court. Grac’d at all parts, they brought to heaven her graces; Whose first sight seen, all fell into embraces, Hugg’d her white hands, saluted, wishing all To wear her maiden flow’r in festival Of sacred Hymen, and to lead her home; All, to all admiration, overcome With Cytherea with the violet crown. So to the Black-brow’d Sweet-spoke all renown! Prepare my song, and give me, in the end, The victory to whose palm all contend! So shall my Muse for ever honour thee, And, for thy sake, thy fair posterity.

A Hymn to Bacchus, or the Pirates