The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

  Which makes him quickly re-enforce his speech,

  And her in humble manner thus beseech.

  Though neither gods nor men may thee deserve,

  Yet for her sake whom you have vow’d to serve,

  Abandon fruitlesse cold Virginitie,

  The gentle queene of Loves sole enemie.

  Then shall you most resemble Venus Nun,

  When Venus sweet rites are perform’d and done.

  Flint-brested Pallas joies in single life,

  But Pallas and your mistresse are at strife.

  Love Hero then, and be not tirannous,

  But heale the heart, that thou hast wounded thus,

  Nor staine thy youthfull years with avarice,

  Faire fooles delight to be accounted nice.

  The richest corne dies, if it be not reapt,

  Beautie alone is lost, too warily kept.

  These arguments he us’de, and many more,

  Wherewith she yeelded, that was woon before.

  Heroes lookes yeelded, but her words made warre,

  Women are woon when they begin to jarre.

  Thus having swallow’d Cupids golden hooke,

  The more she striv’d, the deeper was she strooke.

  Yet evilly faining anger, strove she still,

  And would be thought to graunt against her will.

  So having paus’d a while, at last shee said:

  Who taught thee Rhethoricke to deceive a maid?

  Aye me, such words as these should I abhor,

  And yet I like them for the Orator.

  With that Leander stoopt, to have imbrac’d her,

  But from his spreading armes away she cast her,

  And thus bespake him: Gentle youth forbeare

  To touch the sacred garments which I weare.

  Upon a rocke, and underneath a hill,

  Far from the towne (where all is whist and still,

  Save that the sea playing on yellow sand,

  Sends foorth a ratling murmure to the land,

  Whose sound allures the golden Morpheus,

  In silence of the night to visite us,)

  My turret stands, and there God knowes I play

  With Venus swannes and sparrowes all the day.

  A dwarfish beldame beares me companie,

  That hops about the chamber where I lie,

  And spends the night (that might be better spent)

  In vaine discourse, and apish merriment.

  Come thither; As she spake this, her toong tript,

  For unawares “(Come thither)” from her slipt,

  And sodainly her former colour chang’d,

  And here and there her eies through anger rang’d.

  And like a planet, mooving severall wales,

  At one selfe instant, she poore soule assaies,

  Loving, not to love at all, and everie part

  Strove to resist the motions of her hart.

  And hands so pure, so innocent, nay such,

  As might have made heaven stoope to have a touch,

  Did she uphold to Venus, and againe,

  Vow’d spotlesse chastitie, but all in vaine.

  Cupid beats downe her praiers with his wings,

  Her vowes above the emptie aire he flings:

  All deepe enrag’d, his sinowie bow he bent,

  And shot a shaft that burning from him went,

  Wherewith she strooken, look’d so dolefully,

  As made Love sigh, to see his tirannie.

  And as she wept, her teares to pearle he turn’d,

  And wound them on his arme, and for her mourn’d:

  Then towards the pallace of the Destinies,

  Laden with languishment and griefe he flies.

  And to those sterne nymphs humblie made request,

  Both might enjoy ech other, and be blest.

  But with a ghastly dreadfull countenaunce,

  Threatning a thousand deaths at everie glaunce,

  They answered Love, nor would vouchsafe so much

  As one poore word, their hate to him was such.

  Harken a while, and I will tell you why:

  Heavens winged herrald, Jove-borne Mercury,

  The self-same day that he asleepe had layd

  Inchaunted Argus, spied a countrie mayd,

  Whose carelesse haire, in stead of pearle t’adorne it,

  Glist’red with deaw, as one that seem’d to skorne it:

  Her breath as fragrant as the morning rose,

  Her mind pure, and her toong untaught to glose.

  Yet prowd she was, (for loftie pride that dwels

  In tow’red courts, is oft in sheapheards cels.)

  And too too well the faire vermilion knew,

  And silver tincture of her cheekes, that drew

  The love of everie swaine: On her, this god

  Enamoured was, and with his snakie rod,

  Did charme her nimble feet, and made her stay,

  The while upon a hillocke downe he lay,

  And sweetly on his pipe began to play,

  And with smooth speech, her fancie to assay,

  Till in his twining armes he lockt her fast,

  And then he woo’d with kisses, and at last,

  As sheap-heards do, her on the ground hee layd,

  And tumbling in the grasse, he often strayd

  Beyond the bounds of shame, in being bold

  To eie those parts, which no eie should behold.

  And like an insolent commaunding lover,

  Boasting his parentage, would needs discover

  The way to new Elisium: but she,

  Whose only dower was her chastitie,

  Having striv’ne in vaine, was now about to crie,

  And crave the helpe of sheap-heards that were nie.

  Herewith he stayd his furie, and began

  To give her leave to rise: away she ran,

  After went Mercurie, who us’d such cunning,

  As she to heare his tale, left off her running.

  Maids are not woon by brutish force and might,

  But speeches full of pleasure and delight.

  And knowing Hermes courted her, was glad

  That she such lovelinesse and beautie had

  As could provoke his liking, yet was mute,

  And neither would denie, nor graunt his sute.

  Still vowd he love, she wanting no excuse

  To feed him with delaies, as women use:

  Or thirsting after immortalitie,

  All women are ambitious naturallie:

  Impos’d upon her lover such a taske,

  As he ought not performe, nor yet she aske.

  A draught of flowing Nectar, she requested,

  Wherewith the king of Gods and men is feasted.

  He readie to accomplish what she wil’d,

  Stole some from Hebe (Hebe, Joves cup fil’d,)

  And gave it to his simple rustike love,

  Which being knowne (as what is hid from Jove?)

  He inly storm’d, and waxt more furious,

  Than for the fire filcht by Prometheus;

  And thrusts him down from heaven: he wandring here,

  In mournfull tearmes, with sad and heavie cheare

  Complaind to Cupid; Cupid for his sake,

  To be reveng’d on Jove, did undertake,

  And those on whom heaven, earth, and hell relies,

  I mean the Adamantine Destinies,

  He wounds with love, and forst them equallie,

  To dote upon deceitfull Mercurie.

  They offred him the deadly fatall knife,

  That sheares the slender threads of humane life,

  At his faire feathered feet, the engins layd,

  Which th’earth from ougly Chaos den up-wayd:

  These he regarded not, but did intreat,

  That Jove, usurper of his fathers seat,

  Might presently be banisht into hell,

  And aged Saturne in Olympus dwell.

  They granted wha
t he crav’d, and once againe,

  Saturne and Ops, began their golden raigne.

  Murder, rape, warre, lust and trecherie,

  Were with Jove clos’d in Stigian Emperie.

  But long this blessed time continued not;

  As soone as he his wished purpose got,

  He recklesse of his promise, did despise

  The love of th’everlasting Destinies.

  They seeing it, both Love and him abhor’d,

  And Jupiter unto his place restor’d.

  And but that Learning, in despight of Fate,

  Will mount aloft, and enter heaven gate,

  And to the seat of Jove it selfe advaunce,

  Hermes had slept in hell with ignoraunce.

  Yet as a punishment they added this,

  That he and Povertie should alwaies kis.

  And to this day is everie scholler poore,

  Grosse gold, from them runs headlong to the boore.

  Likewise the angrie sisters thus deluded,

  To venge themselves on Hermes, have concluded

  That Midas brood shall sit in Honors chaire,

  To which the Muses sonnes are only heire:

  And fruitfull wits that in aspiring are,

  Shall discontent run into regions farre;

  And few great lords in vertuous deeds shall joy,

  But be surpris’d with every garish toy.

  And still inrich the loftie servile clowne,

  Who with incroching guile, keepes learning downe.

  Then muse not, Cupids sute no better sped,

  Seeing in their loves, the Fates were injured.

  The end of the first Sestyad.

  THE ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND SESTYAD

  Hero of love takes deeper sence,

  And doth her love more recompence.

  Their first nights meeting, where sweet kisses

  Are th’only crownes of both their blisses.

  He swims t’Abydus, and returnes;

  Cold Neptunewith his beautie burnes,

  Whose suite he shuns, and doth aspire

  Heros faire towre, and his desire.

  By this, sad Hero, with love unacquainted,

  Viewing Leanders face, fell downe and fainted.

  He kist her, and breath’d life into her lips,

  Wherewith as one displeas’d, away she trips.

  Yet as she went, full often look’d behind,

  And many poore excuses did she find,

  To linger by the way, and once she stayd,

  And would have turn’d againe, but was afrayd,

  In offring parlie, to be counted light.

  So on she goes, and in her idle flight,

  Her painted fanne of curled plumes let fall,

  Thinking to traine Leander therewithall.

  He being a novice, knew not what she meant,

  But stayd, and after her a letter sent.

  Which joyfull Hero answerd in such sort,

  As he had hope to scale the beauteous fort,

  Wherein the liberall graces lock’d their wealth,

  And therefore to her tower he got by stealth.

  Wide open stood the doore, hee need not clime,

  And she her selfe before the pointed time,

  Had spread the boord, with roses strowed the roome,

  And oft look’t out, and mus’d he did not come.

  At last he came, O who can tell the greeting,

  These greedie lovers had, at their first meeting.

  He askt, she gave, and nothing was denied,

  Both to each other quickly were affied.

  Looke how their hands, so were their hearts united,

  And what he did, she willingly requited.

  (Sweet are the kisses, the imbracements sweet,

  When like desires and affections meet,

  For from the earth to heaven, is Cupid rais’d,

  Where fancie is in equall ballance pais’d.)

  Yet she this rashnesse sodainly repented,

  And turn’d aside, and to her selfe lamented.

  As if her name and honour had beene wrong’d,

  By being possest of him for whom she long’d:

  I, and shee wisht, albeit not from her hart,

  That he would leave her turret and depart.

  The mirthfull God of amorous pleasure smil’d,

  To see how he this captive Nymph beguil’d.

  For hitherto hee did but fan the fire,

  And kept it downe that it might mount the hier.

  Now waxt she jealous, least his love abated,

  Fearing her owne thoughts made her to be hated.

  Therefore unto him hastily she goes,

  And like light Salmacis, her body throes

  Upon his bosome, where with yeelding eyes,

  She offers up her selfe a sacrifice,

  To slake his anger, if he were displeas’d,

  O what god would not therewith be appeas’d?

  Like Aesops cocke, this jewell he enjoyed,

  And as a brother with his sister toyed,

  Supposing nothing else was to be done,

  Now he her favour and good will had wone.

  But know you not that creatures wanting sence,

  By nature have a mutuall appetence,

  And wanting organs to advaunce a step,

  Mov’d by Loves force, unto ech other lep?

  Much more in subjects having intellect,

  Some hidden influence breeds like effect.

  Albeit Leander rude in love, and raw,

  Long dallying with Hero, nothing saw

  That might delight him more, yet he suspected

  Some amorous rites or other were neglected.

  Therefore unto his bodie, hirs he clung,

  She, fearing on the rushes to be flung,

  Striv’d with redoubled strength: the more she strived,

  The more a gentle pleasing heat revived,

  Which taught him all that elder lovers know,

  And now the same gan so to scorch and glow,

  As in plaine termes (yet cunningly) he crav’d it,

  Love alwaies makes those eloquent that have it.

  Shee, with a kind of graunting, put him by it,

  And ever as he thought himselfe most nigh it,

  Like to the tree of Tantalus she fled,

  And seeming lavish, sav’de her maydenhead.

  Ne’re king more sought to keepe his diademe,

  Than Hero this inestimable gemme.

  Above our life we love a stedfast friend,

  Yet when a token of great worth we send,

  We often kisse it, often looke thereon,

  And stay the messenger that would be gon:

  No marvell then, though Hero would not yeeld

  So soone to part from that she deerely held.

  Jewels being lost are found againe, this never,

  T’is lost but once, and once lost, lost for ever.

  Now had the morne espy’de her lovers steeds,

  Whereat she starts, puts on her purple weeds,

  And red for anger that he stayd so long,

  All headlong throwes her selfe the clouds among

  And now Leander fearing to be mist,

  Imbrast her sodainly, tooke leave, and kist,

  Long was he taking leave, and loath to go,

  And kist againe, as lovers use to do.

  Sad Hero wroong him by the hand, and wept,

  Saying, let your vowes and promises be kept.

  Then standing at the doore, she turnd about,

  As loath to see Leander going out.

  And now the sunne that through th’orizon peepes,

  As pittying these lovers, downeward creepes.

  So that in silence of the cloudie night,

  Though it was morning, did he take his flight.

  But what the secret trustie night conceal’d,

  Leanders amorous habit soone reveal’d.

  With Cupids myrtle was his bonet crownd,
/>
  About his armes the purple riband wound,

  Wherewith she wreath’d her largely spreading heare,

  Nor could the youth abstaine, but he must weare

  The sacred ring wherewith she was endow’d,

  When first religious chastitie she vow’d:

  Which made his love through Sestos to bee knowne,

  And thence unto Abydus sooner blowne,

  Than he could saile, for incorporeal Fame,

  Whose waight consists in nothing but her name,

  Is swifter than the wind, whose tardie plumes,

  Are reeking water, and dull earthlie fumes.

  Home when he came, he seem’d not to be there,

  But like exiled aire thrust from his sphere,

  Set in a forren place, and straight from thence,

  Alcides like, by mightie violence,

  He would have chac’d away the swelling maine,

  That him from her unjustly did detaine.

  Like as the sunne in a Dyameter,

  Fires and inflames objects remooved farre,

  And heateth kindly, shining lat’rally;

  So beautie, sweetly quickens when t’is ny,

  But being separated and remooved,

  Burnes where it cherisht, murders where it loved.

  Therefore even as an Index to a booke,

  So to his mind was yoong Leanders looke.

  O none but gods have power their love to hide,

  Affection by the count’nance is descride.

  The light of hidden fire it selfe discovers,

  And love that is conceal’d, betraies poore lovers.

  His secret flame apparantly was seene,

  Leanders Father knew where hee had beene,

  And for the same mildly rebuk’t his sonne,

  Thinking to quench the sparckles new begonne.

  But love resisted once, growes passionate,

  And nothing more than counsaile, lovers hate.

  For as a hote prowd horse highly disdaines,

  To have his head control’d, but breakes the raines,

  Spits foorth the ringled bit, and with his hoves,

  Checkes the submissive ground: so hee that loves,

  The more he is restrain’d, the woorse he fares,

  What is it now, but mad Leander dares?

  O Hero, Hero, thus he cry’de full oft,

  And then he got him to a rocke aloft.

  Where having spy’de her tower, long star’d he on’t,

  And pray’d the narrow toyling Hellespont,

  To part in twaine, that hee might come and go,

  But still the rising billowes answered no.

  With that hee stript him to the yv’rie skin,

  And crying, Love I come, leapt lively in.

  Whereat the saphir visag’d god grew prowd,

  And made his capring Triton sound alowd,

  Imagining, that Ganimed displeas’d,

  Had left the heavens, therefore on him hee seaz’d.