their woes; So cast these virgins' beauties mutual rays, One lights another, face the face displays; Lips by reflection kissed, and hands hands shook, Even by the whiteness each of other took. 200 But Hymen now used friendly Morpheus' aid, Slew every thief, and rescued every maid: And now did his enamour'd passion take Heart from his hearty deed, whose worth did make His hope of bounteous Eucharis more strong; And now came Love with Proteus, who had long Juggled the little god with prayers and gifts, Ran through all shapes and varied all his shifts, To win Love's stay with him, and make him love him. And when he saw no strength of sleight could move him, To make him love or stay, he nimbly turned 211 Into Love's self, he so extremely burned. And thus came Love, with Proteus and his power, T' encounter Eucharis: first, like the flower That Juno's milk did spring,[97] the silver lily, He fell on Hymen's hand, who straight did spy The bounteous godhead, and with wondrous joy Offer'd it Eucharis. She, wonderous coy, Drew back her hand: the subtle flower did woo it, And, drawing it near, mixed so you could not know it: 220 As two clear tapers mix in one their light, So did the lily and the hand their white. She viewed it; and her view the form bestows Amongst her spirits; for, as colour flows From superficies of each thing we see, Even so with colours forms emitted be; And where Love's form is, Love is; Love is form: He entered at the eye; his sacred storm Rose from the hand, Love's sweetest instrument: It stirred her blood's sea so, that high it went, 230 And beat in bashful waves 'gainst the white shore Of her divided cheeks; it raged the more, Because the tide went 'gainst the haughty wind Of her estate and birth: and, as we find, In fainting ebbs, the flowery Zephyr hurls The green-haired Hellespont, broke in silver curls, 'Gainst Hero's tower; but in his blast's retreat, The waves obeying him, they after beat, Leaving the chalky shore a great way pale, Then moist it freshly with another gale; 240 So ebbed and flowed the blood[98] in Eucharis' face, Coyness and Love strived which had greatest grace; Virginity did fight on Coyness' side, Fear of her parent's frowns and female pride Loathing the lower place, more than it loves The high contents desert and virtue moves. With Love fought Hymen's beauty and his valure,[99] Which scarce could so much favour yet allure To come to strike, but fameless idle stood: Action is fiery valour's sovereign good. 250 But Love, once entered, wished no greater aid Than he could find within; thought thought betray'd; The bribed, but incorrupted, garrison Sung "Io Hymen;" there those songs begun, And Love was grown so rich with such a gain, And wanton with the ease of his free reign, That he would turn into her roughest frowns To turn them out; and thus he Hymen crowns King of his thoughts, man's greatest empery: This was his first brave step to deity. 260 Home to the mourning city they repair, With news as wholesome as the morning air, To the sad parents of each saved maid: But Hymen and his Eucharis had laid This plat[100] to make the flame of their delight Round as the moon at full, and full as bright. Because the parents of chaste Eucharis Exceeding Hymen's so, might cross their bliss; And as the world rewards deserts, that law Cannot assist with force; so when they saw 270 Their daughter safe, take vantage of their own, Praise Hymen's valour much, nothing bestown; Hymen must leave the virgins in a grove Far off from Athens, and go first to prove, If to restore them all with fame and life, He should enjoy his dearest as his wife. This told to all the maids, the most agree: The riper sort, knowing what 'tis to be The first mouth of a news so far derived, And that to hear and bear news brave folks lived. 280 As being a carriage special hard to bear Occurrents, these occurrents being so dear, They did with grace protest, they were content T' accost their friends with all their compliment, For Hymen's good; but to incur their harm, There he must pardon them. This wit went warm To Adolesche's[101] brain, a nymph born high, Made all of voice and fire, that upwards fly: Her heart and all her forces' nether train Climb'd to her tongue, and thither fell her brain, 290 Since it could go no higher; and it must go; All powers she had, even her tongue, did so: In spirit and quickness she much joy did take, And loved her tongue, only for quickness' sake; And she would haste and tell. The rest all stay: Hymen goes one, the nymph another way; And what became of her I'll tell at last: Yet take her visage now;—moist-lipped, long-faced, Thin like an iron wedge, so sharp and tart, As 'twere of purpose made to cleave Love's heart: 300 Well were this lovely beauty rid of her. And Hymen did at Athens now prefer His welcome suit, which he with joy aspired: A hundred princely youths with him retired To fetch the nymphs; chariots and music went; And home they came: heaven with applauses rent. The nuptials straight proceed, whiles all the town, Fresh in their joys, might do them most renown. First, gold-locked Hymen did to church repair, Like a quick offering burned in flames of hair; 310 And after, with a virgin firmament The godhead-proving bride attended went Before them all: she looked in her command, As if form-giving Cypria's silver hand Gripped all their beauties, and crushed out one flame; She blushed to see how beauty overcame The thoughts of all men. Next, before her went Five lovely children, decked with ornament Of her sweet colours, bearing torches by; For light was held a happy augury 320 Of generation, whose efficient right Is nothing else but to produce to light. The odd disparent number they did choose, To show the union married loves should use, Since in two equal parts it will not sever, But the midst holds one to rejoin it ever, As common to both parts: men therefore deem That equal number gods do not esteem, Being authors of sweet peace and unity, But pleasing to th' infernal empery, 330 Under whose ensigns Wars and Discords fight, Since an even number you may disunite In two parts equal, naught in middle left To reunite each part from other reft; And five they hold in most especial prize,[102] Since 'tis the first odd number that doth rise From the two foremost numbers' unity, That odd and even are; which are two and three; For one no number is; but thence doth flow The powerful race of number. Next, did go 340 A noble matron, that did spinning bear A huswife's rock and spindle, and did wear A wether's skin, with all the snowy fleece, To intimate that even the daintiest piece And noblest-born dame should industrious be: That which does good disgraceth no degree. And now to Juno's temple they are come, Where her grave priest stood in the marriage-room: On his right arm did hang a scarlet veil, And from his shoulders to the ground did trail, 350 On either side, ribands of white and blue: With the red veil he hid the bashful hue Of the chaste bride, to show the modest shame, In coupling with a man, should grace a dame. Then took he the disparent silks, and tied The lovers by the waists, and side to side, In token that thereafter they must bind In one self-sacred knot each other's mind. Before them on an altar he presented Both fire and water, which was first invented, 360 Since to ingenerate every human creature And every other birth produc'd by Nature, Moisture and heat must mix; so man and wife For human race must join in nuptial life. Then one of Juno's birds, the painted jay, He sacrific'd and took the gall away; All which he did behind the altar throw, In sign no bitterness of hate should grow, 'Twixt married loves, nor any least disdain. Nothing they spake, for 'twas esteem'd too plain 370 For the most silken mildness of a maid, To let a public audience hear it said, She boldly took the man; and so respected Was bashfulness in Athens, it erected To chaste Agneia,[103] which is Shamefacedness, A sacred temple, holding her a goddess. And now to feasts, masks, and triumphant shows, The shining troops returned, even till earth-throes Brought forth with joy the thickest part of night, When the sweet nuptial song, that used to cite 380 All to their rest, was by Phemonoee[104] sung, First Delphian prophetess, whose graces sprung Out of the Muses' well: she sung before The bride into her chamber; at which door A matron and a torch-bearer did stand: A painted box of confits[105] in her hand The matron held, and so did other some[106] That compassed round the honour'd nuptial room. The custom was, that every maid did wear, During her maidenhead, a silken sphere 390 About her waist, above her inmost weed, Knit with Minerva's knot, and that was freed By the fair bridegroom on the marriage-night, With many ceremonies of delight: And yet eternized Hymen's tender bride, To suffer it dissolved so, sweetly cried. The maids that heard, so loved and did adore her, They wished with all their hearts to suffer for her. So had the matrons, that with confits stood About the chamber, such affectionate blood, 400 And so true feeling of her harmless pains, That every one a shower of confits rains; For which the bride-youths scrambling on the ground, In noise of that sweet hail her[107] cries were drown'd. And thus blest Hymen joyed his gracious bride, And for his joy was after deified. The saffron mirror by which Phoebus' love, Green Tellus, decks her, now he held above The cloudy mountains: and the noble maid, Sharp-visaged Adolesche, that was stray'd 410 Out of her way, in hasting with her news, Not till this[108] hour th' Athenian turrets views; And now brought home by guides, she heard by all, That her long kept occurrents would be stale, And how fair Hymen's honours did excel For those rare news which she came short to tell. To hear her dear tongue robbed of such a joy, Made the well-spoken nymph take such a toy,[109] That down she sunk: when lightning from above Shrunk her lean body, and, for mere free love, 420 Turn'd her into the pied-plum'd Psittacus, That now the Parrot is surnam'd by us, Who still with counterfeit confusion prates Naught but news common to the common'st mates.— This told, strange Teras touch'd her lute, and sung This ditty, that the torchy evening sprung.

Epithalamion Teratos.

Come, come, dear Night! Love's mart of kisses, Sweet close to his ambitious line, The fruitful summer of his blisses! Love's glory doth in darkness shine. 430 O come, soft rest of cares! come, Night! Come, naked Virtue's only tire, The reaped harvest of the light, Bound up in sheaves of sacred fire! Love calls to war; Sighs his alarms, Lips his swords are, The field his arms.

Come, Night, and lay thy velvet hand On glorious Day's outfacing face; 440 And all thy crowned flames command, For torches to our nuptial grace! Love calls to war; Sighs his alarms, Lips his swords are, The field his arms.

No need have we of factious Day, To cast, in envy of thy peace, Her balls of discord in thy way: Here Beauty's day doth never cease; 450 Day is abstracted here, And varied in a triple sphere. Hero, Alcmane, Mya, so outshine thee, Ere thou come here, let Thetis thrice refine thee. Love calls to war; Sighs his alarms, Lips his swords are, The field his arms.

The evening star I see: Rise, youths! the evening star 460 Helps Love to summon war; Both now embracing be. Rise, youths! Love's rite claims more than banquets; rise! Now the bright marigolds, that deck the skies, Phoebus' celestial flowers, that, contrary To his flowers here, ope when he shuts his eye, And shuts when he doth open, crown your sports: Now Love in Night, and Night in Love exhorts Courtship and dances: all your parts employ, And suit Night's rich expansure with your joy. 470 Love paints his longings in sweet virgins' eyes: Rise, youths! Love's rite claims more than banquets; rise!

Rise, virgins! let fair nuptial loves enfold Your fruitless breasts: the maidenheads[110] ye hold Are not your own alone, but parted are; Part in disposing them your parents share, And that a third part is; so must ye save Your loves a third, and you your thirds must have. Love paints his longings in sweet virgins' eyes: Rise, youths! Love's rite claims more than banquets; rise! 480

Herewith the amorous spirit, that was so kind To Teras' hair, and comb'd it down with wind, Still as it, comet-like, brake from her brain, Would needs have Teras gone, and did refrain To blow it down: which, staring[111] up, dismay'd The timorous feast; and she no longer stay'd; But, bowing to the bridegroom and the bride, Did, like a shooting exhalation, glide Out of their sights: the turning of her back Made them all shriek, it look'd so ghastly black. 490 O hapless Hero! that most hapless cloud Thy soon-succeeding tragedy foreshow'd. Thus all the nuptial crew to joys depart; But much-wronged[112] Hero stood Hell's blackest dart: Whose wound because I grieve so to display, I use digressions thus t' increase the day.

FOOTNOTES:

[92] Some modern editors read "sat."

[93] Singer suggested "Alcmaeon."

[94] "Chapman has a passage very similar to this in his Widow's Tears, Act iv.:—

'Wine is ordained to raise such hearts as sink: Whom woful stars distemper let him drink.'"

—Broughton.

[95] "Old eds. 'prayes,' 'praies,' 'preies,' and 'pryes.'"—Dyce.

[96] Dyce reads "enthrill'd" (a word that I do not remember to have seen).

[97] Did make to spring. Cf. Fourth Sestiad, l. 169.

[98] So the Isham copy. All other editions omit the words "the blood."

[99] "Valure" is frequently found as a form of "value;" but I suspect, with Dyce, that it is here put (metri causa) for "valour."

[100] Plot.

[101] Gr. [Greek: adolesches].

[102] Some eds. "price."

[103] Gr. [Greek: hagneia]

[104] Singer gives a reference to Pausan, x. 5.—Old eds. "Phemonor" and "Phemoner."

[105] Comfits.

[106] "Other some" is a not uncommon form of expression. See Halliwell's Dict. of Archaic and Provincial Words.

[107] Old eds. "their."

[108] Old eds. "his."

[109] A sudden pettishness or freak of fancy. Cf. Two Noble Kinsmen:—

"The hot horse hot as fire Took toy at this."

[110] Former editors have not noticed that Chapman is here closely imitating Catullus' Carmen Nuptiale—

"Virginitas non tota tua est: ex parte parentum est: Tertia pars patri data, pars data tertia matri, Tertia sola tua est: noli pugnare duobus, Qui genero sua jura simul cum dote dederunt."

[111] Some eds. "starting." Cf. Julius Caesar, iv. 3, ll. 278-9—

"Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil, That makest my blood cold and my hair to stare?"

[112] "Old eds. 'much-rong,' 'much rongd,' and 'much-wrong'd.'"—Dyce (who reads "much-wrung").



THE SIXTH SESTIAD.

The Argument of the Sixth Sestiad.

Leucote flies to all the Winds, And from the Fates their outrage blinds,[113] That Hero and her love may meet. Leander, with Love's complete fleet Manned in himself, puts forth to seas; When straight the ruthless Destinies, With, Ate, stir the winds to war Upon the Hellespont: their jar Drowns poor Leander. Hero's eyes, Wet witnesses of his surprise, 10 Her torch blown out, grief casts her down Upon her love, and both doth drown: In whose just ruth the god of seas Transforms them to th' Acanthides.

No longer could the Day nor Destinies Delay the Night, who now did frowning rise Into her throne; and at her humorous breasts Visions and Dreams lay sucking: all men's rests Fell like the mists of death upon their eyes, Day's too-long darts so kill'd their faculties. The Winds yet, like the flowers, to cease began; For bright Leucote, Venus' whitest swan, That held sweet Hero dear, spread her fair wings, Like to a field of snow, and message brings 10 From Venus to the Fates, t'entreat them lay Their charge upon the Winds their rage to stay, That the stern battle of the seas might cease, And guard Leander to his love in peace. The Fates consent;—ay me, dissembling Fates! They showed their favours to conceal their hates, And draw Leander on, lest seas too high Should stay his too obsequious destiny: Who[114] like a fleering slavish parasite, In warping profit or a traitorous sleight, 20 Hoops round his rotten body with devotes, And pricks his descant face full of false notes; Praising with open throat, and oaths as foul As his false heart, the beauty of an owl; Kissing his skipping hand with charmed skips, That cannot leave, but leaps upon his lips Like a cock-sparrow, or a shameless quean Sharp at a red-lipp'd youth, and naught doth mean Of all his antic shows, but doth repair More tender fawns,[115] and takes a scatter'd hair 30 From his tame subject's shoulder; whips and calls For everything he lacks; creeps 'gainst the walls With backward humbless, to give needless way: Thus his false fate did with Leander play. First to black Eurus flies the white Leucote (Born 'mongst the negroes in the Levant sea, On whose curl'd head[s] the glowing sun doth rise), And shows the sovereign will of Destinies, To have him cease his blasts; and down he lies. Next, to the fenny Notus course she holds, 40 And found him leaning, with his arms in folds, Upon a rock, his white hair full of showers; And him she chargeth by the fatal powers, To hold in his wet cheeks his cloudy voice. To Zephyr then that doth in flowers rejoice: To snake-foot Boreas next she did remove, And found him tossing of his ravished love,[116] To heat his frosty bosom hid in snow; Who with Leucote's sight did cease to blow. Thus all were still to Hero's heart's desire; 50 Who with all speed did consecrate a fire Of flaming gums and comfortable spice, To light her torch, which in such curious price She held, being object to Leander's sight, That naught but fires perfumed must give it light. She loved it so, she griev'd to see it burn, Since it would waste, and soon to ashes turn: Yet, if it burned not, 'twere not worth her eyes; What made it nothing, gave it all the prize. Sweet torch, true glass of our society! 60 What man does good, but he consumes thereby? But thou wert loved for good, held high, given show; Poor virtue loathed for good, obscured, held low: Do good, be pined,—be deedless good, disgraced; Unless we feed on men, we let them fast. Yet Hero with these thoughts her torch did spend: When bees make wax, Nature doth not intend It should be made a torch; but we, that know The proper virtue of it, make it so, And, when 'tis made, we light it: nor did Nature 70 Propose one life to maids; but each such creature Makes by her soul the best of her free[117] state, Which without love is rude, disconsolate, And wants love's fire to make it mild and bright, Till when, maids are but torches wanting light. Thus 'gainst our grief, not cause of grief, we fight: The right of naught is glean'd, but the delight. Up went she: but to tell how she descended, Would God she were dead, or my verse ended! She was the rule of wishes, sum, and end, 80 For all the parts that did on love depend: Yet cast the torch his brightness further forth; But what shines nearest best, holds truest worth. Leander did not through such tempests swim To kiss the torch, although it lighted him: But all his powers in her desires awaked, Her love and virtues clothed him richly naked. Men kiss but fire that only shows pursue; Her torch and Hero, figure show and virtue. Now at opposed Abydos naught was heard 90 But bleating flocks, and many a bellowing herd, Slain for the nuptials; cracks of falling woods; Blows of broad axes; pourings out of floods. The guilty Hellespont was mix'd and stained With bloody torrents[118] that the shambles rained; Not arguments of feast, but shows that bled, Foretelling that red night that followed. More blood was spilt, more honours were addrest, Than could have graced any happy feast; Rich banquets, triumphs, every pomp employs 100 His sumptuous hand; no miser's nuptial joys. Air felt continual thunder with the noise Made in the general marriage-violence; And no man knew the cause of this expense, But the two hapless lords, Leander's sire, And poor Leander, poorest where the fire Of credulous love made him most rich surmis'd: As short was he of that himself[119] he prized, As is an empty gallant full of form, That thinks each look an act, each drop a storm, 110 That falls from his brave breathings; most brought up In our metropolis, and hath his cup Brought after him to feasts; and much palm bears For his rare judgment in th' attire he wears; Hath seen the hot Low-Countries, not their heat, Observes their rampires and their buildings yet; And, for your sweet discourse with mouths, is heard Giving instructions with his very beard; Hath gone with an ambassador, and been A great man's mate in travelling, even to Rhene; 120 And then puts all his worth in such a face As he saw brave men make, and strives for grace To get his news forth: as when you descry A ship, with all her sail contends to fly Out of the narrow Thames with winds unapt, Now crosseth here, then there, then this way rapt, And then hath one point reach'd, then alters all, And to another crooked reach doth fall Of half a bird-bolt's[120] shoot, keeping more coil Than if she danc'd upon the ocean's toil; 130 So serious is his trifling company, In all his swelling ship of vacantry And so short of himself in his high thought Was our Leander in his fortunes brought, And in his fort of love that he thought won; But otherwise he scorns comparison. O sweet Leander, thy large worth I hide In a short grave! ill-favour'd storms must chide Thy sacred favour;[121] I in floods of ink Must drown thy graces, which white papers drink, 140 Even as thy beauties did the foul black seas; I must describe the hell of thy decease, That heaven did merit: yet I needs must see Our painted fools and cockhorse peasantry Still, still usurp, with long lives, loves, and lust, The seats of Virtue, cutting short as dust Her dear-bought issue: ill to worse converts, And tramples in the blood of all deserts. Night close and silent now goes fast before The captains and the soldiers to the shore, 150 On whom attended the appointed fleet At Sestos' bay, that should Leander meet, Who feigned he in another ship would pass: Which must not be, for no one mean there was To get his love home, but the course he took. Forth did his beauty for his beauty look, And saw her through her torch, as you behold Sometimes within the sun a face of gold, Formed in strong thoughts, by that tradition's force That says a god sits there and guides his course. 160 His sister was with him; to whom he show'd His guide by sea, and said, "Oft have you view'd In one heaven many stars, but never yet In one star many heavens till now were met. See, lovely sister! see, now Hero shines, No heaven but her appears; each star repines, And all are clad in clouds, as if they mourned To be by influence of earth out-burned. Yet doth she shine, and teacheth Virtue's train Still to be constant in hell's blackest reign, 170 Though even the gods themselves do so entreat them As they did hate, and earth as she would eat them." Off went his silken robe, and in he leapt, Whom the kind waves so licorously cleapt,[122] Thickening for haste, one in another, so, To kiss his skin, that he might almost go To Hero's tower, had that kind minute lasted. But now the cruel Fates with Ate hasted To all the winds, and made them battle fight Upon the Hellespont, for either's right 180 Pretended to the windy monarchy; And forth they brake, the seas mixed with the sky, And tossed distressed Leander, being in hell, As high as heaven: bliss not in height doth dwell. The Destinies sate dancing on the waves, To see the glorious Winds with mutual braves Consume each other: O, true glass, to see How ruinous ambitious statists be To their own glories! Poor Leander cried For help to sea-born Venus she denied; 190 To Boreas, that, for his Atthaea's[123] sake He would some pity on his Hero take, And for his own love's sake, on his desires; But Glory never blows cold Pity's fires. Then call'd he Neptune, who, through all the noise, Knew with affright his wreck'd Leander's voice, And up he rose; for haste his forehead hit 'Gainst heaven's hard crystal; his proud waves he smit With his forked sceptre, that could not obey; Much greater powers than Neptune's gave them sway. 200 They loved Leander so, in groans they brake When they came near him; and such space did take 'Twixt one another, loath to issue on, That in their shallow furrows earth was shown, And the poor lover took a little breath: But the curst Fates sate spinning of his death On every wave, and with the servile Winds Tumbled them on him. And now Hero finds, By that she felt, her dear Leander's state: She wept, and prayed for him to every Fate; 210 And every Wind that whipped her with her hair About the face, she kissed and spake it fair, Kneeled to it, gave it drink out of her eyes To quench his thirst: but still their cruelties Even her poor torch envied, and rudely beat The baiting[124] flame from that dear food it eat; Dear, for it nourish'd her Leander's life; Which with her robe she rescued from their strife; But silk too soft was such hard hearts to break; And she, dear soul, even as her silk, faint, weak, 220 Could not preserve it; out, O, out it went! Leander still call'd Neptune, that now rent His brackish curls, and tore his wrinkled face, Where tears in billows did each other chase; And, burst with ruth, he hurl'd his marble mace At the stern Fates: it wounded Lachesis That drew Leander's thread, and could not miss The thread itself, as it her hand did hit, But smote it full, and quite did sunder it. The more kind Neptune raged, the more he razed 230 His love's life's fort, and kill'd as he embraced: Anger doth still his own mishap increase; If any comfort live, it is in peace. O thievish Fates, to let blood, flesh, and sense, Build two fair temples for their excellence, To robe it with a poisoned influence! Though souls' gifts starve, the bodies are held dear In ugliest things; sense-sport preserves a bear: But here naught serves our turns: O heaven and earth, How most-most wretched is our human birth! 240 And now did all the tyrannous crew depart, Knowing there was a storm in Hero's heart, Greater than they could make, and scorn'd their smart. She bow'd herself so low out of her tower, That wonder 'twas she fell not ere her hour, With searching the lamenting waves for him: Like a poor snail, her gentle supple limb Hung on her turret's top, so most downright, As she would dive beneath the darkness quite, To find her jewel;—jewel!—her Leander, 250 A name of all earth's jewels pleas'd not her Like his dear name: "Leander, still my choice, Come naught but my Leander! O my voice, Turn to Leander! henceforth be all sounds, Accents and phrases, that show all griefs' wounds, Analyzed in Leander! O black change! Trumpets, do you, with thunder of your clange, Drive out this change's horror! My voice faints: Where all joy was, now shriek out all complaints!" Thus cried she; for her mixed soul could tell 260 Her love was dead: and when the Morning fell Prostrate upon the weeping earth for woe, Blushes, that bled out of her cheeks, did show Leander brought by Neptune, bruis'd and torn With cities' ruins he to rocks had worn, To filthy usuring rocks, that would have blood, Though they could get of him no other good. She saw him, and the sight was much-much more Than might have serv'd to kill her: should her store Of giant sorrows speak?—Burst,—die,—bleed, 270 And leave poor plaints to us that shall succeed. She fell on her love's bosom, hugged it fast, And with Leander's name she breathed her last. Neptune for pity in his arms did take them, Flung them into the air, and did awake them Like two sweet birds, surnam'd th' Acanthides, Which we call Thistle-warps, that near no seas Dare ever come, but still in couples fly, And feed on thistle-tops, to testify The hardness of their first life in their last; 280 The first, in thorns of love, that sorrows past: And so most beautiful their colours show, As none (so little) like them; her sad brow A sable velvet feather covers quite, Even like the forehead-cloth that, in the night, Or when they sorrow, ladies use[125] to wear: Their wings, blue, red, and yellow, mixed appear: Colours that, as we construe colours, paint Their states to life;—the yellow shows their saint, The dainty[126] Venus, left them; blue their truth; 290 The red and black, ensigns of death and ruth. And this true honour from their love-death sprung,— They were the first that ever poet sung.[127]

FOOTNOTES:

[113] It should be binds: i.e., "Leucote flies to the several winds, and, commissioned by the Fates, commands them to restrain their violence." Broughton.

[114] The next few lines are in Chapman's obscurest manner. "Devotes," in l. 21, means, I suppose, "tokens of devotion to his patron."

[115] Cunningham says, "I cannot perceive the meaning of 'doth repair more tender fawns.'" "Fawns" is equivalent to "fawnings;" and the meaning seems to be, "applies himself to softer blandishments."

[116] Orithyia.—The story of the rape of Orithyia is told in a magnificent passage of Mr. Swinburne's Erectheus.

[117] So the Isham copy. Later eds. "true."

[118] So the Isham copy. Later eds. "torrent."

[119] Some eds. "himselfe surpris'd." Dyce gives "himself so priz'd."

[120] A short arrow blunted at the end; it killed birds without piercing them.

[121] Countenance.

[122] Clipt, embraced.

[123] From Gr. [Greek: Atthis] (a woman of Attica, i.e., Orithyia).

[124] "The flame taking bait (refreshment), feeding." Dyce. (Old eds. "bating.")

[125] Old eds. "vsde."

[126] Isham copy "deuil."

[127] In Chapman's day the work of the grammarian Musaeus was supposed to be the genuine production of the fabulous son of Eumolpus.



OVID'S ELEGIES.



All the old editions of Marlowe's translation of the Amores are undated, and bear the imprint Middleburgh (in various spellings). It is probable that the copy which Mr. Charles Edmonds discovered at Lamport Hall, Northamptonshire (the seat of Sir Charles Isham, Bart.), is the earliest of extant editions. The title-page of this edition is—Epigrammes and Elegies By I. D. and C. M. At Middleborugh 12mo. After the title-page come the Epigrammata, which are signed at the end "I. D." (the initials of Sir John Davies). Following the Epigrammata is a copy of verses headed Ignoto, and then comes a second title-page—Certaine of Ovid's Elegies. By C. Marlowe. At Middleborough. In his preface to a facsimile reprint of the little volume, Mr. Edmonds states his conviction that this edition, notwithstanding the imprint Middleborough, was issued at London from the press of W. Jaggard, who in 1599 printed the Passionate Pilgrime. He grounds his opinion not only on the character of the type and of the misprints, but on the fact that there would be no need for the book to be printed abroad in the first instance. It was not (he thinks) until after June 1599—when (with other books) it was condemned by Archbishop Whitgift to be burnt—that recourse was had to the expedient of reprinting it at Middleburgh. In the notes I refer to this edition as Isham copy.

The next edition, which has the same title-pages as the Isham copy—Epigrammes and Elegies by I. D. and C. M. at Middleborugh, 12mo—was certainly, to judge from its general appearance, printed abroad, and by foreigners. The text agrees in the main with that of the Isham copy, but the corruptions are more numerous. I have followed Dyce in referring to this edition as Ed. A.

The Isham copy and Ed. A contain only a portion of the Elegies. The complete translation appeared in All Ovid's Elegies: 3 Bookes. By C. M. Epigrams by I. D. At Middleborugh, 12mo. (Ed. B); and in another edition with the same title-page (Ed. C). The readings of Ed. C. I have occasionally borrowed from Dyce. It is supposed that the book "continued to be printed with Middleburgh on the title, and without date, as late as 1640" (Hazlitt).



OVID'S ELEGIES.

P. OVIDII NASONIS AMORUM.

LIBER PRIMUS.



ELEGIA I.

Quemadmodum a Cupidine, pro bellis amoris scribere coactus sit.

We which were Ovid's five books, now are three, For these before the rest preferreth he: If reading five thou plain'st of tediousness, Two ta'en away, thy[128] labour will be less;

With Muse prepared,[129] I meant to sing of arms, Choosing a subject fit for fierce alarms: Both verses were alike till Love (men say) Began to smile and took one foot away. Rash boy, who gave thee power to change a line? We are the Muses' prophets, none of thine. What, if thy mother take Diana's[130] bow, Shall Dian fan when love begins to glow? In woody groves is't meet that Ceres reign, And quiver-bearing Dian till the plain? 10 Who'll set the fair-tressed Sun in battle-ray While Mars doth take the Aonian harp to play? Great are thy kingdoms, over-strong and large, Ambitious imp, why seek'st thou further charge? Are all things thine? the Muses' Tempe thine? Then scarce can Phoebus say, "This harp is mine." When[131] in this work's first verse I trod aloft, Love slaked my muse, and made my numbers soft: I have no mistress nor no favourite, Being fittest matter for a wanton wit. 20 Thus I complained, but Love unlocked his quiver, Took out the shaft, ordained my heart to shiver, And bent his sinewy bow upon his knee, Saying, "Poet, here's a work beseeming thee." O, woe is me! he never shoots but hits, I burn, love in my idle bosom sits: Let my first verse be six, my last five feet: Farewell stern war, for blunter poets meet! Elegian muse, that warblest amorous lays, Girt my shine[132] brow with seabank myrtle sprays.[133] 30

FOOTNOTES:

[128] So the Isham copy. Ed. A. "the."

[129] Isham copy and ed. A. "vpreard, I meane."

[130] The original has—

"Quid? si praeripiat flavae Venus arma Minervae Ventilet accensas flavae Minerva comas."

[131]

"Cum bene surrexit versu nova pagina, primo! At tenuat nervos proximus ille meos."

[132] Sheen.

[133] Dyce's correction for "praise" of the old eds.



ELEGIA II.

Quod primo amore correptus, in triumphum duci se a Cupidine patiatur.

What makes my bed seem hard seeing it is soft? Or why slips down the coverlet so oft? Although the nights be long I sleep not tho[134] My sides are sore with tumbling to and fro. Were love the cause it's like I should descry him, Or lies he close and shoots where none can spy him? 'Twas so; he strook me with a slender dart; 'Tis cruel Love turmoils my captive heart. Yielding or striving[135] do we give him might, Let's yield, a burden easily borne is light. 10 I saw a brandished fire increase in strength, Which being not shak'd, I saw it die at length. Young oxen newly yoked are beaten more, Than oxen which have drawn the plough before: And rough jades' mouths with stubborn bits are torn, But managed horses' heads are lightly borne.[136] Unwilling lovers, love doth more torment, Than such as in their bondage feel content. Lo! I confess, I am thy captive I, And hold my conquered hands for thee to tie. 20 What need'st thou war? I sue to thee for grace: With arms to conquer armless men is base. Yoke Venus' Doves, put myrtle on thy hair, Vulcan will give thee chariots rich and fair: The people thee applauding, thou shalt stand, Guiding the harmless pigeons with thy hand. Young men and women shalt thou lead as thrall, So will thy triumph seem magnifical; I, lately caught, will have a new-made wound, And captive-like be manacled and bound: 30 Good meaning, Shame, and such as seek Love's wrack Shall follow thee, their hands tied at their back. Thee all shall fear, and worship as a king Ioe triumphing shall thy people sing. Smooth speeches, Fear and Rage shall by thee ride, Which troops have always been on Cupid's side; Thou with these soldiers conquer'st gods and men, Take these away, where is thine honour then? Thy mother shall from heaven applaud this show, And on their faces heaps of roses strow, 40 With beauty of thy wings, thy fair hair gilded,[137] Ride golden Love in chariots richly builded! Unless I err, full many shalt thou burn, And give wounds infinite at every turn. In spite of thee, forth will thine arrows fly, A scorching flame burns all the standers by. So, having conquered Inde, was Bacchus' hue; Thee pompous birds and him two tigers drew; Then seeing I grace thy show in following thee, Forbear to hurt thyself in spoiling me. 50 Behold thy kinsman[138] Caesar's prosperous bands, Who guards the[139] conquered with his conquering hands.

FOOTNOTES:

[134] Then.

[135] So the Isham copy and ed. A. Other eds. "struggling."

[136] "Frena minus sentit quisquis ad arma facit."—Marlowe's line strongly supports the view that "bear hard" in Julius Caesar means "curb, keep a tight rein over" (hence "eye with suspicion"). Cf. Christopher Clifford's School of Horsemanship (1585):—"But the most part of horses takes it [a 'wil of his owne'] through the unskilfulnesse of the rider by bearing too hard a hand upon them," p. 35.

[137] "Our poet's copy of Ovid had 'Tu penna pulchros gemina variante capillos.'"—Dyce. (The true reading "Tu pennas gemma, gemma, variante capillos.")

[138] Old eds. "kinsmans."

[139] Old eds. "thee."



ELEGIA III.

Ad amicam.

I ask but right, let her that caught me late, Either love, or cause that I may never hate; I crave[140] too much—would she but let me love her; Jove knows with such-like prayers I daily move her. Accept him that shall serve thee all his youth, Accept him that shall love with spotless truth. If lofty titles cannot make[141] me thine, That am descended but of knightly line, (Soon may you plough the little land I have; I gladly grant my parents given to save;[142]) 10 Apollo, Bacchus, and the Muses may; And Cupid who hath marked me for thy prey; My spotless life, which but to gods gives place, Naked simplicity, and modest grace. I love but one, and her I love change never, If men have faith, I'll live with thee for ever. The years that fatal Destiny shall give I'll live with thee, and die ere thou shalt grieve. Be thou the happy subject of my books That I may write things worthy thy fair looks. 20 By verses, horned Ioe got her name; And she to whom in shape of swan[143] Jove came; And she that on a feigned Bull swam to land, Griping his false horns with her virgin hand, So likewise we will through the world be rung And with my name shall thine be always sung.

FOOTNOTES:

[140] Isham copy "aske."

[141] Ed. A. "cause me to be thine."

[142] "Temperat et sumptus parcus uterque parens."

[143] Isham copy and ed. A. "Bull."



ELEGIA IV.[144]

Amicam, qua arte quibusque nutibus in caena, presente viro, uti debeat, admonet.

Thy husband to a banquet goes with me, Pray God it may his latest supper be. Shall I sit gazing as a bashful guest, While others touch the damsel I love best? Wilt lying under him, his bosom clip? About thy neck shall he at pleasure skip? Marvel not, though the fair bride did incite The drunken Centaurs to a sudden fight. I am no half horse, nor in woods I dwell, Yet scarce my hands from thee contain I well. 10 But how thou should'st behave thyself now know, Nor let the winds away my warnings blow. Before thy husband come, though I not see What may be done, yet there before him be. Lie with him gently, when his limbs he spread Upon the bed; but on my foot first tread. View me, my becks, and speaking countenance; Take, and return[145] each secret amorous glance. Words without voice shall on my eyebrows sit, Lines thou shalt read in wine by my hand writ. 20 When our lascivious toys come to thy mind, Thy rosy cheeks be to thy thumb inclined. If aught of me thou speak'st in inward thought, Let thy soft finger to thy ear be brought. When I, my light, do or say aught that please thee, Turn round thy gold ring, as it were to ease thee. Strike on the board like them that pray for evil, When thou dost wish thy husband at the devil.[146] What wine he fills thee, wisely will[147] him drink; Ask thou the boy, what thou enough dost think. 30 When thou hast tasted, I will take the cup, And where thou drink'st, on that part I will sup. If he gives thee what first himself did taste, Even in his face his offered gobbets[148] cast. Let not thy neck by his vile arms be prest, Nor lean thy soft head on his boisterous breast. Thy bosom's roseate buds let him not finger, Chiefly on thy lips let not his lips linger If thou givest kisses, I shall all disclose,[149] Say they are mine, and hands on thee impose. 40 Yet this I'll see, but if thy gown aught cover, Suspicious fear in all my veins will hover. Mingle not thighs, nor to his leg join thine, Nor thy soft foot with his hard foot combine. I have been wanton, therefore am perplexed, And with mistrust of the like measure vexed. I and my wench oft under clothes did lurk, When pleasure moved us to our sweetest work. Do not thou so; but throw thy mantle hence, Lest I should think thee guilty of offence. 50 Entreat thy husband drink, but do not kiss, And while he drinks, to add more do not miss; If he lies down with wine and sleep opprest, The thing and place shall counsel us the rest. When to go homewards we rise all along Have care to walk in middle of the throng. There will I find thee or be found by thee, There touch whatever thou canst touch of me. Ay me! I warn what profits some few hours! But we must part, when heaven with black night lours. 60 At night thy husband clips[150] thee: I will weep And to the doors sight of thyself [will] keep: Then will he kiss thee, and not only kiss, But force thee give him my stolen honey-bliss. Constrained against thy will give it the peasant, Forbear sweet words, and be your sport unpleasant. To him I pray it no delight may bring, Or if it do, to thee no joy thence spring. But, though this night thy fortune be to try it, To me to-morrow constantly deny[151] it. 70

FOOTNOTES:

[144] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[145] So Dyce; old eds. "receive."

[146] "Optabis merito cum mala multa viro."

[147] "Bibat ipse jubeto."

[148] So Dyce for "goblets" of the old eds. ("Rejice libatos illius ore cibos.")

[149] "Fiam manifestus adulter."

[150] The original has "Nocte vir includet."

[151] "Dedisse nega."



ELEGIA V.

Corinnae concubitus.

In summer's heat, and mid-time of the day, To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay; One window shut, the other open stood, Which gave such light as twinkles in a wood, Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun, Or night being past, and yet not day begun; Such light to shamefaced maidens must be shown Where they may sport, and seem to be unknown: Then came Corinna in a long loose gown, Her white neck hid with tresses hanging down, 10 Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed, Or Lais of a thousand wooers sped.[152] I snatched her gown: being thin, the harm was small, Yet strived she to be covered therewithal; And striving thus, as one that would be cast, Betrayed herself, and yielded at the last. Stark naked as she stood before mine eye, Not one wen in her body could I spy. What arms and shoulders did I touch and see! How apt her breasts were to be pressed by me! 20 How smooth a belly under her waist saw I, How large a leg, and what a lusty thigh! To leave the rest, all liked me passing well; I clinged her naked[153] body, down she fell: Judge you the rest; being tired she bade me kiss; Jove send me more such afternoons as this!

FOOTNOTES:

[152] Isham copy and ed. A. "spread."

[153] Ed. A. "her faire white body." ("Et nudam pressi corpus ad usque meum.")



ELEGIA VI.[154]

Ad Janitorem, ut fores sibi aperiat.

Unworthy porter, bound in chains full sore, On moved hooks set ope the churlish door. Little I ask, a little entrance make, The gate half-ope my bent side in will take. Long love my body to such use make[s] slender, And to get out doth like apt members render. He shows me how unheard to pass the watch, And guides my feet lest, stumbling, falls they catch: But in times past I feared vain shades, and night, Wondering if any walked without light. 10 Love, hearing it, laughed with his tender mother, And smiling said, "Be thou as bold as other." Forthwith love came; no dark night-flying sprite, Nor hands prepared to slaughter, me affright. Thee fear I too much: only thee I flatter: Thy lightning can my life in pieces batter. Why enviest me? this hostile den[155] unbar; See how the gates with my tears watered are! When thou stood'st naked ready to be beat, For thee I did thy mistress fair entreat. 20 But what entreats for thee sometimes[156] took place, (O mischief!) now for me obtain small grace. Gratis thou mayest be free; give like for like; Night goes away: the door's bar backward strike. Strike; so again hard chains shall bind thee never, Nor servile water shalt thou drink for ever. Hard-hearted Porter, dost and wilt not hear? With stiff oak propped the gate doth still appear. Such rampired gates besieged cities aid; In midst of peace why art of arms afraid? 30 Exclud'st a lover, how would'st use a foe? Strike back the bar, night fast away doth go. With arms or armed men I come not guarded; I am alone, were furious love discarded. Although I would, I cannot him cashier, Before I be divided from my gear.[157] See Love with me, wine moderate in my brain, And on my hairs a crown of flowers remain. Who fears these arms? who will not go to meet them? Night runs away; with open entrance greet them. 40 Art careless? or is't sleep forbids thee hear, Giving the winds my words running in thine ear? Well I remember, when I first did hire thee, Watching till after midnight did not tire thee. But now perchance thy wench with thee doth rest, Ah, how thy lot is above my lot blest: Though it be so, shut me not out therefore; Night goes away: I pray thee ope the door. Err we? or do the turned hinges sound, And opening doors with creaking noise abound?[158] 50 We err: a strong blast seemed the gates to ope: Ay me, how high that gale did lift my hope! If Boreas bears[159] Orithyia's rape in mind, Come break these deaf doors with thy boisterous wind. Silent the city is: night's dewy host[160] March fast away: the bar strike from the post. Or I more stern than fire or sword will turn, And with my brand these gorgeous houses burn. Night, love, and wine to all extremes persuade: Night, shameless wine, and love are fearless made. 60 All have I spent: no threats or prayers move thee; O harder than the doors thou guard'st I prove thee, No pretty wench's keeper may'st thou be, The careful prison is more meet for thee. Now frosty night her flight begins to take, And crowing cocks poor souls to work awake. But thou, my crown, from sad hairs ta'en away, On this hard threshold till the morning lay. That when my mistress there beholds thee cast, She may perceive how we the time did waste. 70 Whate'er thou art, farewell, be like me pained! Careless farewell, with my fault not distained![161] And farewell cruel posts, rough threshold's block, And doors conjoined with an hard iron lock!

FOOTNOTES:

[154] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[155] Old eds. "dende."

[156] Sometime ("quondam").

[157] "Ante vel a membris dividar ipse meis."

[158] Qy. "rebound?"

[159] Dyce reads, "If, Boreas, bear'st" (i.e., "thou bear'st"). But the change in the old eds. from the second to the third person is not very harsh.

[160] A picturesque rendering of

"Vitreoque madentia rore Tempora noctis eunt."

[161] "Lente nec admisso turpis amante ... vale." Of course "nec" should be taken with "admisso."



ELEGIA VII.[162]

Ad pacandam amicam, quam verberaverat.

Bind fast my hands, they have deserved chains, While rage is absent, take some friend the pains. For rage against my wench moved my rash arm, My mistress weeps whom my mad hand did harm. I might have then my parents dear misused, Or holy gods with cruel strokes abused. Why, Ajax, master of the seven-fold shield, Butchered the flocks he found in spacious field. And he who on his mother venged his ire, Against the Destinies durst sharp[163] darts require. 10 Could I therefore her comely tresses tear? Yet was she graced with her ruffled hair. So fair she was, Atalanta she resembled, Before whose bow th' Arcadian wild beasts trembled. Such Ariadne was, when she bewails, Her perjured Theseus' flying vows and sails. So, chaste Minerva, did Cassandra fall Deflowered[164] except within thy temple wall. That I was mad, and barbarous all men cried: She nothing said; pale fear her tongue had tied. 20 But secretly her looks with checks did trounce me, Her tears, she silent, guilty did pronounce me. Would of mine arms my shoulders had been scanted: Better I could part of myself have wanted. To mine own self have I had strength so furious, And to myself could I be so injurious? Slaughter and mischiefs instruments, no better, Deserved chains these cursed hands shall fetter. Punished I am, if I a Roman beat: Over my mistress is my right more great? 30 Tydides left worst signs[165] of villainy; He first a goddess struck: another I. Yet he harmed less; whom I professed to love I harmed: a foe did Diomede's anger move. Go now, thou conqueror, glorious triumphs raise, Pay vows to Jove; engirt thy hairs with bays. And let the troops which shall thy chariot follow, "Ioe, a strong man conquered this wench," hollow. Let the sad captive foremost, with locks spread On her white neck, but for hurt cheeks,[166] be led. 40 Meeter it were her lips were blue with kissing, And on her neck a wanton's[167] mark not missing. But, though I like a swelling flood was driven, And as a prey unto blind anger given, Was't not enough the fearful wench to chide? Nor thunder, in rough threatenings, haughty pride? Nor shamefully her coat pull o'er her crown, Which to her waist her girdle still kept down? But cruelly her tresses having rent, My nails to scratch her lovely cheeks I bent. 50 Sighing she stood, her bloodless white looks shewed, Like marble from the Parian mountains hewed. Her half-dead joints, and trembling limbs I saw, Like poplar leaves blown with a stormy flaw. Or slender ears, with gentle zephyr shaken, Or waters' tops with the warm south-wind taken. And down her cheeks, the trickling tears did flow, Like water gushing from consuming snow. Then first I did perceive I had offended; My blood the tears were that from her descended. 60 Before her feet thrice prostrate down I fell, My feared hands thrice back she did repel. But doubt thou not (revenge doth grief appease), With thy sharp nails upon my face to seize; Bescratch mine eyes, spare not my locks to break (Anger will help thy hands though ne'er so weak); And lest the sad signs of my crime remain, Put in their place thy kembed[168] hairs again.

FOOTNOTES:

[162] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[163] I should like to omit this word, to which there is nothing to correspond in the original.

[164] Marlowe has misunderstood the original "Sic nisi vittatis quod erat Cassandra capillis."

[165] "Pessima Tydides scelerum monumenta reliquit."

[166] An awkward translation of

"Si sinerent laesae, candidia tota, genae."

[167] So ed. B.—Ed. C. "wanton."

[168] Old eds. "keembed." ("Pone recompositas in statione comas.")



ELEGIA VIII.[169]

Execratur lenam quae puellam suam meretricis arte instituebat.

There is—whoe'er will know a bawd aright, Give ear—there is an old trot Dipsas hight.[170] Her name comes from the thing: she being wise,[171] Sees not the morn on rosy horses rise, She magic arts and Thessal charms doth know, And makes large streams back to their fountains flow; She knows with grass, with threads on wrung[172] wheels spun, And what with mares' rank humour[173] may be done. When she will, cloudes the darkened heaven obscure, When she will, day shines everywhere most pure. 10 If I have faith, I saw the stars drop blood, The purple moon with sanguine visage stood; Her I suspect among night's spirits to fly, And her old body in birds' plumes to lie. Fame saith as I suspect; and in her eyes, Two eyeballs shine, and double light thence flies. Great grandsires from their ancient graves she chides, And with long charms the solid earth divides. She draws chaste women to incontinence, Nor doth her tongue want harmful eloquence. 20 By chance I heard her talk; these words she said, While closely hid betwixt two doors I laid. "Mistress, thou knowest thou hast a blest youth pleased, He stayed and on thy looks his gazes seized. And why should'st not please; none thy face exceeds; Ay me, thy body hath no worthy weeds! As thou art fair, would thou wert fortunate! Wert thou rich, poor should not be my state. Th' opposed star of Mars hath done thee harm; Now Mars is gone, Venus thy side doth warm, 30 And brings good fortune; a rich lover plants His love on thee, and can supply thy wants. Such is his form as may with thine compare, Would he not buy thee, thou for him should'st care."[174] She blushed: "Red shame becomes white cheeks; but this If feigned, doth well; if true, it doth amiss. When on thy lap thine eyes thou dost deject, Each one according to his gifts respect. Perhaps the Sabines rude, when Tatius reigned To yield their love to more than one disdained. 40 Now Mars doth rage abroad without all pity, And Venus rules in her AEneas' city. Fair women play; she's chaste whom none will have Or, but for bashfulness, herself would crave. Shake off these wrinkles that thy front assault; Wrinkles in beauty is a grievous fault. Penelope in bows her youths' strength tried, Of horn the bow was that approved[175] their side. Time flying slides hence closely, and deceives us, And with swift horses the swift year[176] soon leaves us. 50 Brass shines with use; good garments would[177] be worn; Houses not dwelt in, are with filth forlorn. Beauty, not exercised, with age is spent, Nor one or two men are sufficient. Many to rob is more sure, and less hateful, From dog-kept flocks come preys to wolves most grateful. Behold, what gives the poet but new verses? And therefore many thousand he rehearses. The poet's god arrayed in robes of gold, Of his gilt harp the well-tuned strings doth hold. 60 Let Homer yield to such as presents bring, (Trust me) to give, it is a witty thing. Nor, so thou may'st obtain a wealthy prize, The vain name of inferior slaves despise. Nor let the arms of ancient lines[178] beguile thee; Poor lover, with thy grandsires I exile thee. Who seeks, for being fair, a night to have, What he will give, with greater instance crave. Make a small price, while thou thy nets dost lay; Lest they should fly; being ta'en, the tyrant play. 70 Dissemble so, as loved he may be thought, And take heed lest he gets that love for naught. Deny him oft; feign now thy head doth ache: And Isis now will show what 'scuse to make. Receive him soon, lest patient use he gain, Or lest his love oft beaten back should wane. To beggars shut, to bringers ope thy gate; Let him within hear barred-out lovers prate. And, as first wronged, the wronged sometimes banish; Thy fault with his fault so repulsed will vanish. 80 But never give a spacious time to ire; Anger delayed doth oft to hate retire. And let thine eyes constrained learn to weep, That this or that man may thy cheeks moist keep. Nor, if thou cozenest one, dread to forswear, Venus to mocked men lends a senseless ear. Servants fit for thy purpose thou must hire, To teach thy lover what thy thoughts desire. Let them ask somewhat; many asking little, Within a while great heaps grow of a tittle. 90 And sister, nurse, and mother spare him not; By many hands great wealth is quickly got. When causes fail thee to require a gift By keeping of thy birth, make but a shift. Beware lest he, unrivalled, loves secure; Take strife away, love doth not well endure. On all the bed men's tumbling[179] let him view, And thy neck with lascivious marks made blue. Chiefly show him the gifts, which others send: If he gives nothing, let him from thee wend. 100 When thou hast so much as he gives no more, Pray him to lend what thou may'st ne'er restore. Let thy tongue flatter, while thy mind harm works; Under sweet honey deadly poison lurks. If this thou dost, to me by long use known, (Nor let my words be with the winds hence blown) Oft thou wilt say, 'live well;' thou wilt pray oft, That my dead bones may in their grave lie soft." As thus she spake, my shadow me betrayed; With much ado my hands I scarcely stayed; 110 But her blear eyes, bald scalp's thin hoary fleeces, And rivelled[180] cheeks I would have pulled a-pieces. The gods send thee no house, a poor old age, Perpetual thirst, and winter's lasting rage.

FOOTNOTES:

[169] Not in Isham copy or ed A.

[170] "Est quaedam, nomine Dipsas, anus."

[171]

"Nigri non illa parentem Memnonis in roseis sobria vidit equis."

Cunningham suggests that "wise" was "one of the thousand and one euphemisms for 'inebriated.'"

[172] The spelling in old eds. is "wrong."

[173]

"Virus amantis equae."

[174] "Si te non emptam vellet emendus erat." (Marlowe's copy must have read "amandus.")

[175] Proved their strength. "Qui latus argueret corneus arcus erat."

[176] The usual reading is "Ut celer admissis labitur amnis aquis."

[177] "Vestis bona quaerit haberi."

[178] Old eds. "liues."

[179] "Ille viri toto videat vestigia lecto."

[180] "Rugosas genas."



ELEGIA IX.[181]

Ad Atticum, amantem non oportere desidiosum esse, sicuti nec militem.

All lovers war, and Cupid hath his tent; Attic, all lovers are to war far sent, What age fits Mars, with Venus doth agree; 'Tis shame for eld in war or love to be. What years in soldiers captains do require, Those in their lovers pretty maids desire. Both of them watch: each on the hard earth sleeps: His mistress' door this, that his captain's keeps. Soldiers must travel far: the wench forth send,[182] Her valiant lover follows without end. 10 Mounts, and rain-doubled floods he passeth over, And treads the desert snowy heaps do[183] cover. Going to sea, east winds he doth not chide, Nor to hoist sail attends fit time and tide. Who but a soldier or a lover's bold To suffer storm-mixed snows with night's sharp cold? One as a spy doth to his enemies go, The other eyes his rival as his foe. He cities great, this thresholds lies before: This breaks town gates, but he his mistress' door. 20 Oft to invade the sleeping foe 'tis good, And armed to shed unarmed people's blood. So the fierce troops of Thracian Rhesus fell, And captive horses bade their lord farewell. Sooth,[184] lovers watch till sleep the husband charms, Who slumbering, they rise up in swelling arms. The keepers' hands[185] and corps-du-gard to pass, The soldier's, and poor lover's work e'er was. Doubtful is war and love; the vanquished rise, And who thou never think'st should fall, down lies. 30 Therefore whoe'er love slothfulness doth call, Let him surcease: love tries wit best of all. Achilles burned, Briseis being ta'en away; Trojans destroy the Greek wealth, while you may. Hector to arms went from his wife's embraces, And on Andromache[186] his helmet laces. Great Agamemnon was, men say, amazed, On Priam's loose-trest daughter when he gazed. Mars in the deed the blacksmith's net did stable; In heaven was never more notorious fable. 40 Myself was dull and faint, to sloth inclined; Pleasure and ease had mollified my mind. A fair maid's care expelled this sluggishness, And to her tents willed me myself address. Since may'st thou see me watch and night-wars move: He that will not grow slothful, let him love.

FOOTNOTES:

[181] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[182] "Mitte puellam."

[183] Old eds. "to."

[184] So ed. B.—Ed. C "such."

[185] "Custodum transire manus vigilumque catervas." (For "hands" the poet should have written "bands.")

[186] "Et galeam capiti quae daret uxor erat."



ELEGIA X.[187]

Ad puellam, ne pro amore praemia poscat.

Such as the cause was of two husbands' war, Whom Trojan ships fetch'd from Europa far, Such as was Leda, whom the god deluded In snow-white plumes of a false swan included. Such as Amymone through the dry fields strayed, When on her head a water pitcher laid. Such wert thou, and I feared the bull and eagle, And whate'er Love made Jove, should thee inveigle. Now all fear with my mind's hot love abates: No more this beauty mine eyes captivates. 10 Ask'st why I change? because thou crav'st reward; This cause hath thee from pleasing me debarred. While thou wert plain[188] I loved thy mind and face: Now inward faults thy outward form disgrace. Love is a naked boy, his years saunce[189] stain, And hath no clothes, but open doth remain. Will you for gain have Cupid sell himself? He hath no bosom where to hide base pelf. Love[190] and Love's son are with fierce arms at[191] odds; To serve for pay beseems not wanton gods. 20 The whore stands to be bought for each man's money, And seeks vild wealth by selling of her coney. Yet greedy bawd's command she curseth still, And doth, constrained, what you do of goodwill. Take from irrational beasts a precedent; 'Tis shame their wits should be more excellent. The mare asks not the horse, the cow the bull, Nor the mild ewe gifts from the ram doth pull. Only a woman gets spoils from a man, Farms out herself on nights for what she can; 30 And lets[192] what both delight, what both desire, Making her joy according to her hire. The sport being such, as both alike sweet try it, Why should one sell it and the other buy it? Why should I lose, and thou gain by the pleasure, Which man and woman reap in equal measure? Knights of the post[193] of perjuries make sale, The unjust judge for bribes becomes a stale. 'Tis shame sold tongues the guilty should defend, Or great wealth from a judgment-seat ascend. 40 'Tis shame to grow rich by bed-merchandise,[194] Or prostitute thy beauty for bad price. Thanks worthily are due for things unbought; For beds ill-hired we are indebted nought. The hirer payeth all; his rent discharged, From further duty he rests then enlarged. Fair dames forbear rewards for nights to crave: Ill-gotten goods good end will never have. The Sabine gauntlets were too dearly won, That unto death did press the holy nun. 50 The son slew her, that forth to meet him went, And a rich necklace caused that punishment. Yet think no scorn to ask a wealthy churl; He wants no gifts into thy lap to hurl. Take clustered grapes from an o'er-laden vine, May[195] bounteous love[196] Alcinous' fruit resign. Let poor men show their service, faith and care; All for their mistress, what they have, prepare. In verse to praise kind wenches 'tis my part, And whom I like eternise by mine art. 60 Garments do wear, jewels and gold do waste, The fame that verse gives doth for ever last. To give I love, but to be asked disdain; Leave asking, and I'll give what I refrain.

FOOTNOTES:

[187] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[188] "Simplex."

[189] Sans.

[190] "Nec Venus apta," &c.

[191] Old eds. "to."

[192] "Vendit."

[193] "Non bene conducti testes."

[194] So ed. B.—ed. C "bad merchandise."

[195] Old eds. "many."

[196] The original has "ager."



ELEGIA XI.[197]

Napen alloquitur, ut paratas tabellas ad Corinnam perferat.

In skilful gathering ruffled hairs in order, Nape, free-born, whose cunning hath no border,[198] Thy service for night's scapes is known commodious, And to give signs dull wit to thee is odious.[199] Corinna clips me oft by thy persuasion: Never to harm me made thy faith evasion. Receive these lines; them to my mistress carry; Be sedulous; let no stay cause thee tarry, Nor flint nor iron are in thy soft breast, But pure simplicity in thee doth rest. 10 And 'tis supposed Love's bow hath wounded thee; Defend the ensigns of thy war in me. If what I do, she asks, say "hope for night;" The rest my hand doth in my letters write. Time passeth while I speak; give her my writ, But see that forthwith she peruseth it. I charge thee mark her eyes and front in reading: By speechless looks we guess at things succeeding. Straight being read, will her to write much back, I hate fair paper should writ matter lack. 20 Let her make verses and some blotted letter On the last edge to stay mine eyes the better. What needs she tire[200] her hand to hold the quill? Let this word "Come," alone the tables fill. Then with triumphant laurel will I grace them And in the midst of Venus' temple place them, Subscribing, that to her I consecrate My faithful tables, being vile maple late.

FOOTNOTES:

[197] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[198] Bound.

[199] "Et dandis ingeniosa notis."

[200] So Dyce for "try" of the old eds.



ELEGIA XII.[201]

Tabellas quas miserat execratur quod amica noctem negabat.

Bewail my chance: the sad book is returned, This day denial hath my sport adjourned. Presages are not vain; when she departed, Nape by stumbling on the threshold, started. Going out again, pass forth the door more wisely, And somewhat higher bear thy foot precisely. Hence luckless tables! funeral wood, be flying! And thou, the wax, stuffed full with notes denying! Which I think gathered from cold hemlock's flower, Wherein bad honey Corsic bees did pour: 10 Yet as if mixed with red lead thou wert ruddy, That colour rightly did appear so bloody. As evil wood, thrown in the highways, lie, Be broke with wheels of chariots passing by! And him that hewed you out for needful uses, I'll prove had hands impure with all abuses. Poor wretches on the tree themselves did strangle: There sat the hangman for men's necks to angle. To hoarse scrich-owls foul shadows it allows; Vultures and Furies[202] nestled in the boughs. 20 To these my love I foolishly committed, And then with sweet words to my mistress fitted. More fitly had they[203] wrangling bonds contained From barbarous lips of some attorney strained. Among day-books and bills they had lain better, In which the merchant wails his bankrupt debtor. Your name approves you made for such like things, The number two no good divining brings. Angry, I pray that rotten age you racks, And sluttish white-mould overgrow the wax. 30

FOOTNOTES:

[201] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[202] "Volturis in ramis et strigis ova tulit."

[203] Old eds. "thy."



ELEGIA XIII.

Ad Auroram ne properet.

Now o'er the sea from her old love comes she That draws the day from heaven's cold axletree. Aurora, whither slid'st thou? down again! And birds for[204] Memnon yearly shall be slain. Now in her tender arms I sweetly bide, If ever, now well lies she by my side. The air is cold, and sleep is sweetest now, And birds send forth shrill notes from every bough. Whither runn'st thou, that men and women love not? Hold in thy rosy horses that they move not. 10 Ere thou rise, stars teach seamen where to sail, But when thou com'st, they of their courses fail. Poor travellers though tired, rise at thy sight, And[205] soldiers make them ready to the fight. The painful hind by thee to field is sent; Slow oxen early in the yoke are pent. Thou coz'nest boys of sleep, and dost betray them To pedants that with cruel lashes pay them. Thou mak'st the surety to the lawyer run, That with one word hath nigh himself undone. 20 The lawyer and the client hate thy view, Both whom thou raisest up to toil anew. By thy means women of their rest are barred, Thou settst their labouring hands to spin and card. All[206] could I bear; but that the wench should rise, Who can endure, save him with whom none lies? How oft wished I night would not give thee place, Nor morning stars shun thy uprising face. How oft that either wind would break thy coach, Or steeds might fall, forced with thick clouds' approach. 30 Whither go'st thou, hateful nymph? Memnon the elf Received his coal-black colour from thyself. Say that thy love with Cephalus were not known, Then thinkest thou thy loose life is not shown? Would Tithon might but talk of thee awhile! Not one in heaven should be more base and vile. Thou leav'st his bed, because he's faint through age, And early mount'st thy hateful carriage: But held'st[207] thou in thy arms some Cephalus, Then would'st thou cry, "Stay night, and run not thus." 40 Dost punish[208] me because years make him wane? I did not bid thee wed an aged swain. The moon sleeps with Endymion every day; Thou art as fair as she, then kiss and play. Jove, that thou should'st not haste but wait his leisure, Made two nights one to finish up his pleasure. I chid[209] no more; she blushed, and therefore heard me, Yet lingered not the day, but morning scared me.

FOOTNOTES:

[204] So Dyce for "from" of the old eds.

[205] This line is omitted in ed. A.

[206] Isham copy and ed. A "This."

[207] Isham copy and ed. A "had'st."

[208] Isham copy and ed. A "Punish ye me."

[209] So the Isham copy. The other old eds. "chide."



ELEGIA XIV.[210]

Puellam consolatur cui prae nimia cura comae deciderant.

Leave colouring thy tresses, I did cry; Now hast thou left no hairs at all to dye. But what had been more fair had they been kept? Beyond thy robes thy dangling locks had swept. Fear'dst thou to dress them being fine and thin, Like to the silk the curious[211] Seres spin. Or threads which spider's slender foot draws out, Fastening her light web some old beam about? Not black nor golden were they to our view, Yet although [n]either, mixed of either's hue; 10 Such as in hilly Ida's watery plains, The cedar tall, spoiled of his bark, retains. Add[212] they were apt to curl a hundred ways, And did to thee no cause of dolour raise. Nor hath the needle, or the comb's teeth reft them, The maid that kembed them ever safely left them. Oft was she dressed before mine eyes, yet never, Snatching the comb to beat the wench, outdrive her. Oft in the morn, her hairs not yet digested, Half-sleeping on a purple bed she rested; 20 Yet seemly like a Thracian Bacchanal, That tired doth rashly[213] on the green grass fall. When they were slender and like downy moss, Thy[214] troubled hairs, alas, endured great loss. How patiently hot irons they did take, In crooked trannels[215] crispy curls to make. I cried, "'Tis sin, 'tis sin, these hairs to burn, They well become thee, then to spare them turn. Far off be force, no fire to them may reach, Thy very hairs will the hot bodkin teach." 30 Lost are the goodly locks, which from their crown, Phoebus and Bacchus wished were hanging down. Such were they as Diana[216] painted stands, All naked holding in her wave-moist hands. Why dost thy ill-kembed tresses' loss lament? Why in thy glass dost look, being discontent? Be not to see with wonted eyes inclined; To please thyself, thyself put out of mind. No charmed herbs of any harlot scathed thee, No faithless witch in Thessal waters bathed thee. 40 No sickness harmed thee (far be that away!), No envious tongue wrought thy thick locks' decay. By thine own hand and fault thy hurt doth grow, Thou mad'st thy head with compound poison flow. Now Germany shall captive hair-tires send thee, And vanquished people curious dressings lend thee. Which some admiring, O thou oft wilt blush! And say, "He likes me for my borrowed bush. Praising for me some unknown Guelder[217] dame, But I remember when it was my fame." 50 Alas she almost weeps, and her white cheeks, Dyed red with shame to hide from shame she seeks. She holds, and views her old locks in her lap; Ay me! rare gifts unworthy such a hap! Cheer up thyself, thy loss thou may'st repair, And be hereafter seen with native hair.

FOOTNOTES:

[210] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[211] The original has "colorati Seres."

[212] So ed. B.—Ed. C "And."

[213] "Temere."

[214] Old eds. "They."

[215] Cunningham and the editor of 1826 may be right in reading "trammels" (i.e. ringlets). "Trannel" was the name for a bodkin. (The original has "Ut fieret torto flexilis orbe sinus.")

[216] "Nuda Dione."

[217] "Nescio quam pro me laudat nunc iste Sygambram."



ELEGIA XV.

Ad invidos, quod fama poetarum sit perennis.

Envy, why carp'st thou my time's spent so ill? And term'st[218] my works fruits of an idle quill? Or that unlike the line from whence I sprung[219] War's dusty honours are refused being young? Nor that I study not the brawling laws, Nor set my voice to sail in every cause? Thy scope is mortal; mine, eternal fame. That all the world may[220] ever chant my name. Homer shall live while Tenedos stands and Ide, Or to[221] the sea swift Simois shall[222] slide. 10 Ascraeus lives while grapes with new wine swell, Or men with crooked sickles corn down fell. The[223] world shall of Callimachus ever speak; His art excelled, although his wit was weak. For ever lasts high Sophocles' proud vein, With sun and moon Aratus shall remain. While bondmen cheat, fathers [be] hard,[224] bawds whorish, And strumpets flatter, shall Menander flourish. Rude Ennius, and Plautus[225] full of wit, Are both in Fame's eternal legend writ. 20 What age of Varro's name shall not be told, And Jason's Argo,[226] and the fleece of gold? Lofty Lucretius shall live that hour, That nature shall dissolve this earthly bower. AEneas' war and Tityrus shall be read, While Rome of all the conquered[227] world is head. Till Cupid's bow, and fiery shafts be broken, Thy verses, sweet Tibullus, shall be spoken. And Gallus shall be known from East to West, So shall Lycoris whom he loved best. 30 Therefore when flint and iron wear away, Verse is immortal and shall ne'er decay. To[228] verse let kings give place and kingly shows, And banks o'er which gold-bearing Tagus flows. Let base-conceited wits admire vild things; Fair Phoebus lead me to the Muses' springs. About my head be quivering myrtle wound, And in sad lovers' heads let me be found. The living, not the dead, can envy bite, For after death all men receive their right. 40 Then though death racks[229] my bones in funeral fire, I'll live, and as he pulls me down mount higher.

The same, by B. I.[230]

Envy, why twitt'st thou me, my time's spent ill? And call'st my verse fruits of an idle quill? Or that (unlike the line from whence I sprung) War's dusty honours I pursue not young? Or that I study not the tedious laws; And prostitute my voice in every cause? Thy scope is mortal; mine eternal fame, Which through the world shall ever chant my name. Homer will live, whilst Tenedos stands, and Ide, Or to the sea, fleet Symois doth slide: 10 And so shall Hesiod too, while vines do bear, Or crooked sickles crop the ripened ear. Callimachus, though in invention low, Shall still be sung, since he in art doth flow; No loss shall come to Sophocles' proud vein; With sun and moon Aratus shall remain. Whilst slaves be false, fathers hard, and bawds be whorish, Whilst harlots flatter, shall Meander flourish. Ennius, though rude, and Accius' high-reared strain, A fresh applause in every age shall gain. 20 Of Varro's name, what ear shall not be told? Of Jason's Argo and the fleece of gold? Then, shall Lucretius' lofty numbers die, When earth, and seas in fire and flames shall fry. Tityrus, Tillage, AEney shall be read,[231] Whilst Rome of all the conquered world is head. Till Cupid's fires be out, and his bow broken, Thy verses, neat Tibulus, shall be spoken. Our Gallus shall be known from East to West, So shall Lycoris, whom he now loves best. 30 The suffering ploughshare or the flint may wear, But heavenly poesy no death can fear. Kings shall give place to it, and kingly shows, The banks o'er which gold-bearing Tagus flows. Kneel hinds to trash: me let bright Phoebus swell, With cups full flowing from the Muses' well. The frost-drad[232] myrtle shall impale my head, And of sad lovers I'll be often read. Envy the living, not the dead doth bite, For after death all men receive their right. 40 Then when this body falls in funeral fire, My name shall live, and my best part aspire.

FOOTNOTES:

[218] Isham copy and ed. A "tearmes our."

[219] Dyce's correction for "come" of the old eds.

[220] Isham copy and ed. A "might."

[221] So Isham copy and ed. A.—Dyce follows ed. B, "Or into sea."

[222] So old eds.—Dyce "doth."

[223] Isham copy and ed. A omit this line and the next.

[224] So Dyce.—Old eds. "fathers hoord." ("Durus pater.")

[225] The poet must have read "animosi Maccius oris." The true reading is "animosique Accius oris."

[226] Old eds. "Argos."

[227] Isham copy and ed. A "conquering."

[228] Isham copy and ed. A "Let kings give place to verse."

[229] So the Isham copy.—Ed. A (followed by Dyce) gives "rocks."—Eds. B and C "rakes" (and so Cunningham).

[230] I.e. Ben Jonson, who afterwards introduced it into the Poetaster (I. 1). This version is merely a revision of the preceding, which must also have been written by Ben Jonson.

[231] "Tityrus et fruges AEneiaque arma legentur."

[232] "Metuentem frigora myrtum."



P. OVIDII NASONIS AMORUM.

LIBER SECUNDUS.



ELEGIA I.[233]

Quod pro gigantomachia amores scribere sit coactus.

I, Ovid, poet, of my[234] wantonness, Born at Peligny, to write more address. So Cupid wills. Far hence be the severe! You are unapt my looser lines to hear. Let maids whom hot desire to husbands lead,[235] And rude boys, touched with unknown love, me read: That some youth hurt, as I am, with Love's bow, His own flame's best-acquainted signs may know. And long admiring say, "By what means learned, Hath this same poet my sad chance discern'd?" 10 I durst the great celestial battles tell, Hundred-hand Gyges, and had done it well; With Earth's revenge, and how Olympus top High Ossa bore, Mount Pelion up to prop; Jove and Jove's thunderbolts I had in hand, Which for[236] his heaven fell on the giants' band. My wench her door shut, Jove's affairs I left, Even Jove himself out of my wit was reft. Pardon me, Jove! thy weapons aid me nought, Her shut gates greater lightning than thine brought. 20 Toys, and light elegies, my darts I took, Quickly soft words hard doors wide-open strook. Verses reduce the horned bloody moon, And call the sun's white horses back[237] at noon. Snakes leap by verse from caves of broken mountains,[238] And turned streams run backward to their fountains. Verses ope doors; and locks put in the post, Although of oak, to yield to verses boast. What helps it me of fierce Achill to sing? What good to me will either Ajax bring? 30 Or he who warred and wandered twenty year? Or woful Hector whom wild jades did tear? But when I praise a pretty wench's face, She in requital doth me oft embrace. A great reward! Heroes of[239] famous names Farewell! your favour nought my mind inflames. Wenches apply your fair looks to my verse, Which golden Love doth unto me rehearse.

FOOTNOTES:

[233] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[234] Old eds. "thy."

[235] A clear instance of a plural verb following a singular subject.

[236] "Quod bene pro coelo mitteret ille suo."

[237] Old eds. "blacke."

[238] "Carmine dissiliunt, abruptis faucibus, angues." ("Fauces" means both "jaw" and "mountain-gorge." Marlowe has gone desperately wrong.)

[239] Old eds. "O."



ELEGIA II.[240]

Ad Bagoum, ut custodiam puellae sibi commissae laxiorem habeat.

Bagous, whose care doth thy[241] mistress bridle, While I speak some few, yet fit words, be idle. I saw the damsel walking yesterday, There, where the porch doth Danaus' fact[242] display: She pleased me soon; I sent, and did her woo; Her trembling hand writ back she might not do. And asking why, this answer she redoubled, Because thy care too much thy mistress troubled. Keeper, if thou be wise, cease hate to cherish, Believe me, whom we fear, we wish to perish. 10 Nor is her husband wise: what needs defence, When unprotected[243] there is no expense? But furiously he follow[244] his love's fire, And thinks her chaste whom many do desire: Stolen liberty she may by thee obtain, Which giving her, she may give thee again: Wilt thou her fault learn? she may make thee tremble. Fear to be guilty, then thou may'st dissemble. Think when she reads, her mother letters sent her: Let him go forth known, that unknown did enter. 20 Let him go see her though she do not languish, And then report her sick and full of anguish. If long she stays, to think the time more short, Lay down thy forehead in thy lap to snort. Inquire not what with Isis may be done, Nor fear lest she to the theatres run. Knowing her scapes, thine honour shall increase; And what less labour than to hold thy peace? Let him please, haunt the house, be kindly used, Enjoy the wench; let all else be refused. 30 Vain causes feign of him, the true to hide, And what she likes, let both hold ratified. When most her husband bends the brows and frowns, His fawning wench with her desire he crowns. But yet sometimes to chide thee let her fall Counterfeit tears: and thee lewd hangman call. Object thou then, what she may well excuse, To stain all faith in truth, by false crimes' use. Of wealth and honour so shall grow thy heap: Do this, and soon thou shalt thy freedom reap. 40 On tell-tales' necks thou seest the link-knit chains, The filthy prison faithless breasts restrains. Water in waters, and fruit, flying touch, Tantalus seeks, his long tongue's gain is such. While Juno's watchman Ioe too much eyed, Him timeless[245] death took, she was deified. I saw one's legs with fetters black and blue, By whom the husband his wife's incest[246] knew: More he deserved; to both great harm he framed, The man did grieve, the woman was defamed. 50 Trust me all husbands for such faults are sad, Nor make they any man that hears them glad. If he loves not, deaf ears thou dost importune, Or if he loves, thy tale breeds his misfortune. Nor is it easy proved though manifest; She safe by favour of her judge doth rest. Though himself see, he'll credit her denial, Condemn his eyes, and say there is no trial. Spying his mistress' tears he will lament And say "This blab shall suffer punishment." 60 Why fight'st 'gainst odds? to thee, being cast, do hap Sharp stripes; she sitteth in the judge's lap. To meet for poison or vild facts[247] we crave not; My hands an unsheathed shining weapon have not. We seek that, through thee, safely love we may; What can be easier than the thing we pray?

FOOTNOTES:

[240] Not in Isham copy or ed. "A."

[241] So ed. B.—Ed. C "my."

[242] The original has "agmen." Cunningham suggests "pack." If we retain "fact" the meaning is "Danaus' guilt."

[243] Old eds. "vn-protested." ("Unde nihil, quamvis non tueare, perit.")

[244] So ed. B.—Ed. C "follows." (The sense wanted is "Furiously let him follow" &c.)

[245] "Ante suos annos occidit."

[246] "Unde vir incestum scire coactus erat." (Here "incestum" is "adultery.")

[247] "Scelus."



ELEGIA III.[248]

Ad Eunuchum servantem dominam.

Ay me, an eunuch keeps my mistress chaste, That cannot Venus' mutual pleasure taste. Who first deprived young boys of their best part, With self-same wounds he gave, he ought to smart. To kind requests thou would'st more gentle prove, If ever wench had made lukewarm thy love: Thou wert not born to ride, or arms to bear, Thy hands agree not with the warlike spear. Men handle those; all manly hopes resign, Thy mistress' ensigns must be likewise thine. 10 Please her—her hate makes others thee abhor; If she discards thee, what use serv'st thou for? Good form there is, years apt to play together: Unmeet is beauty without use to wither. She may deceive thee, though thou her protect; What two determine never wants effect. Our prayers move thee to assist our drift, While thou hast time yet to bestow that gift.

FOOTNOTES:

[248] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.



ELEGIA IV.

Quod amet mulieres, cujuscunque formae sint.

I mean not to defend the scapes[249] of any, Or justify my vices being many; For I confess, if that might merit favour, Here I display my lewd and loose behaviour. I loathe, yet after that I loathe I run: Oh, how the burthen irks, that we should[250] shun. I cannot rule myself but where Love please; Am[251] driven like a ship upon rough seas. No one face likes me best, all faces move, A hundred reasons make me ever love. 10 If any eye me with a modest look, I burn,[252] and by that blushful glance am took; And she that's coy I like, for being no clown, Methinks she would be nimble when she's down. Though her sour looks a Sabine's brow resemble, I think she'll do, but deeply can dissemble. If she be learned, then for her skill I crave her; If not, because she's simple I would have her. Before Callimachus one prefers me far; Seeing she likes my books, why should we jar? 20 Another rails at me, and that I write, Yet would I lie with her, if that I might: Trips she, it likes me well; plods she, what than[253]? She would be nimbler lying with a man. And when one sweetly sings, then straight I long, To quaver on her lips even in her song; Or if one touch the lute with art and cunning, Who would not love those hands[254] for their swift running? And her I like that with a majesty, Folds up her arms, and makes low courtesy. 30 To[255] leave myself, that am in love with all, Some one of these might make the chastest fall. If she be tall, she's like an Amazon, And therefore fills the bed she lies upon: If short, she lies the rounder: to speak[256] troth, Both short and long please me, for I love both. I[257] think what one undecked would be, being drest; Is she attired? then show her graces best. A white wench thralls me, so doth golden yellow: And nut-brown girls in doing have no fellow. 40 If her white neck be shadowed with black hair, Why so was Leda's, yet was Leda fair. Amber-tress'd[258] is she? then on the morn think I: My love alludes to every history: A young wench pleaseth, and an old is good, This for her looks, that for her womanhood: Nay what is she, that any Roman loves, But my ambitious ranging mind approves?

FOOTNOTES:

[249] "Mendosos ... mores."

[250] "Heu quam, quae studeas ponere, ferre grave est."

[251] So eds. B, C.—Isham copy and ed. A "And."

[252] This is Dyce's certain correction for the old eds. "blush." (The originals has "uror.")

[253] Then.

[254] Ed. A "those nimble hands."

[255]

"Ut taceam de me, qui causa tangor ab omni, Illic Hippolytum pone, Priapus erit."

[256] So Isham copy and ed. A.—Eds. B, C "say."

[257] This and the next three lines are omitted in Isham copy and ed. A.

[258] So eds. B, C.—Isham copy and ed. A "yellow trest."



ELEGIA V.[259]

Ad amicam corruptam.

No love is so dear,—quivered Cupid, fly!— That my chief wish should be so oft to die. Minding thy fault, with death I wish to revel; Alas! a wench is a perpetual evil. No intercepted lines thy deeds display, No gifts given secretly thy crime bewray. O would my proofs as vain might be withstood! Ay me, poor soul, why is my cause so good? He's happy, that his love dares boldly credit; To whom his wench can say, "I never did it." 10 He's cruel, and too much his grief doth favour, That seeks the conquest by her loose behaviour. Poor wretch,[260] I saw when thou didst think I slumbered; Not drunk, your faults on the spilt wine I numbered. I saw your nodding eyebrows much to speak, Even from your cheeks, part of a voice did break. Not silent were thine eyes, the board with wine Was scribbled, and thy fingers writ a line. I knew your speech (what do not lovers see?) And words that seemed for certain marks to be. 20 Now many guests were gone, the feast being done, The youthful sort to divers pastimes run. I saw you then unlawful kisses join; (Such with my tongue it likes me to purloin); None such the sister gives her brother grave, But such kind wenches let their lovers have. Phoebus gave not Diana such, 'tis thought, But Venus often to her Mars such brought. "What dost?" I cried; "transport'st thou my delight? My lordly hands I'll throw upon my right. 30 Such bliss is only common to us two, In this sweet good why hath a third to do?" This, and what grief enforced me say, I said: A scarlet blush her guilty face arrayed; Even such as by Aurora hath the sky, Or maids that their betrothed husbands spy; Such as a rose mixed with a lily breeds, Or when the moon travails with charmed steeds. Or such as, lest long years should turn the dye, Arachne[261] stains Assyrian ivory. 40 To these, or some of these, like was her colour: By chance her beauty never shined fuller. She viewed the earth; the earth to view, beseemed her. She looked sad; sad, comely I esteemed her. Even kembed as they were, her locks to rend, And scratch her fair soft cheeks I did intend. Seeing her face, mine upreared arms descended, With her own armour was my wench defended. I, that erewhile was fierce, now humbly sue, Lest with worse kisses she should me endue. 50 She laughed, and kissed so sweetly as might make Wrath-kindled Jove away his thunder shake. I grieve lest others should such good perceive, And wish hereby them all unknown[262] to leave. Also much better were they than I tell, And ever seemed as some new sweet befell. 'Tis ill they pleased so much, for in my lips Lay her whole tongue hid, mine in hers she dips. This grieves me not; no joined kisses spent, Bewail I only, though I them lament. 60 Nowhere can they be taught but in the bed; I know no master of so great hire sped.[263]

FOOTNOTES:

[259] Not in Isham copy or ed. A.

[260] So Dyce for "Poor wench" of the old eds.—The original has "Ipse miser vidi."

[261] "Maeonis Assyrium femina tinxit opus." Dyce remarks that Marlowe "was induced to give this extraordinary version of the line by recollecting that in the sixth book of Ovid's Metamorphoses Arachne is termed 'Maeonis,' while her father is mentioned as a dyer."

[262] A bad mistranslation of "Et volo non ex hac illa fuisse nota."

[263] Far from the original "Nescio quis pretium grande magister habet."



ELEGIA VI.[264]

In mortem psittaci.

The parrot, from East India to me sent,[265] Is dead; all fowls her exequies frequent! Go godly[266] birds, striking your breasts, bewail, And with rough claws your tender cheeks assail. For woful hairs let piece-torn plumes abound, For long shrild[267] trumpets let your notes resound. Why Philomel dost Tereus' lewdness mourn? All wasting years have that complaint now[268] worn. Thy tunes let this rare bird's sad funeral borrow; Itys[269] a great, but ancient cause of sorrow. 10 All you whose pinions in the clear air soar, But most, thou friendly turtle-dove, deplore. Full concord all your lives was you betwixt, And to the end your constant faith stood fixt. What Pylades did to Orestes prove, Such to the parrot was the turtle-dove. But what availed this faith? her rarest hue? Or voice that how to change the wild notes knew? What helps it thou wert given to please my wench? Birds' hapless glory, death thy life doth quench. 20 Thou with thy quills might'st make green emeralds dark, And pass our scarlet of red saffron's mark. No such voice-feigning bird was on the ground, Thou spok'st thy words so well with stammering sound. Envy hath rapt thee, no fierce wars thou mov'dst; Vain-babbling speech, and pleasant peace thou lov'dst. Behold how quails among their battles live, Which do perchance old age unto them give. A little filled thee, and for love of talk, Thy mouth to taste of many meats did balk. 30 Nuts were thy food, and poppy caused thee sleep, Pure water's moisture thirst away did keep. The ravenous vulture lives, the puttock[270] hovers Around the air, the cadess[271] rain discovers. And crow[272] survives arms-bearing Pallas' hate, Whose life nine ages scarce bring out of date. Dead is that speaking image of man's voice, The parrot given me, the far world's[273] best choice. The greedy spirits[274] take the best things first, Supplying their void places with the worst. 40 Thersites did Protesilaus survive; And Hector died, his brothers yet alive. My wench's vows for thee what should I show, Which stormy south winds into sea did blow? The seventh day came, none following might'st thou see, And the Fate's distaff empty stood to thee: Yet words in thy benumbed palate rung; "Farewell, Corinna," cried thy dying tongue. Elysium hath a wood of holm-trees black, Whose earth doth not perpetual green grass lack. 50 There good birds rest (if we believe things hidden), Whence unclean fowls are said to be forbidden. There harmless swans feed all abroad the river; There lives the phoenix, one alone bird ever; There Juno's bird displays his gorgeous feather, And loving doves kiss eagerly together. The parrot into wood received with these, Turns all the godly[275] birds to what she please. A grave her bones hides: on her corps' great grave, The little stones these little verses have. 60 This tomb approves I pleased my mistress well My mouth in speaking did all birds excell.