Advanced to her. Where, soon as enter’d, she
The shining gates shut; and the Graces three
Wash’d, and with oils of everlasting scent
Bathed, as became, her deathless lineament.
Then her ambrosian mantle she assum’d,
With rich and odoriferous airs perfum’d.
Which being put on, and all her trims beside
Fair, and with all allurements amplified,
The all-of-gold-made laughter-loving Dame
Left odorous Cyprus, and for Troy became
A swift contendress, her pass cutting all
Along the clouds, and made her instant fall
On fountful Ida, that her mother-breasts
Gives to the preyful brood of savage beasts.
And through the hill she went the ready way
T’ Anchises’ oxstall, where did fawn and play
About her blessed feet wolves grisly-gray,
Terrible lions, many a mankind bear,
And lybberds swift, insatiate of red deer.
Whose sight so pleas’d, that, ever as she past,
Through every beast a kindly love she cast,
That, in their dens obscured with shadows deep,
Made all, distinguish’d in kind couples, sleep.
And now she reach’d the rich pavilion
Of the heroë, in whom heavens had shown
A fair and goodly composition,
And whom she in his oxstall found, alone,
His oxen feeding in fat pastures by,
He walking up and down, sounds clear and high
From his harp striking. Then before him she
Stood like a virgin, that invincibly
Had borne her beauties; yet alluringly
Bearing her person, lest his ravish’d eye
Should chance t’ affect him with a stupid fear.
Anchises seeing her, all his senses were
With wonder stricken, and high-taken heeds
Both of her form, brave stature, and rich weeds.
For, for a veil, she shin’d in an attire
That cast a radiance past the ray of fire.
Beneath which wore she, girt to her, a gown
Wrought all with growing-rose-buds, reaching down
T’ her slender smalls, which buskins did divine,
Such as taught Thetis’ silver feet to shine.
Her soft white neck rich carquenets embraced,
Bright, and with gold in all variety graced,
That to her breasts let down lay there and shone,
As, at her joyful full, the rising Moon.
Her sight show’d miracles. Anchises’ heart
Love took into his hand, and made him part
With these high salutations; “Joy, O Queen!
Whoever of the Blest thy beauties been
That light these entries; or the Deity
That darts affecteth; or that gave the Eye
Of heaven his heat and lustre; or that moves
The hearts of all with all-commanding loves;
Or generous Themis; or the blue-eyed Maid;
Or of the Graces any that are laid
With all the Gods in comparable scales,
And whom fame up to immortality calls;
Or any of the Nymphs, that unshorn groves,
Or that this fair hill-habitation, loves,
Or valleys flowing with earth’s fattest goods,
Or fountains pouring forth eternal floods!
Say, which of all thou art, that in some place
Of circular prospect, for thine eyes’ dear grace,
I may an altar build, and to thy pow’rs
Make sacred all the year’s devoted hours,
With consecrations sweet and opulent.
Assur’d whereof, be thy benign mind bent
To these wish’d blessings of me: Give me parts
Of chief attraction in Trojan hearts;
And, after, give me the refulgency
Of most renown’d and rich posterity;
Long, and free life, and heaven’s sweet light as long;
The people’s blessings, and a health so strong
That no disease it let my life engage,
Till th’ utmost limit of a human age.”
To this Jove’s Seed this answer gave again;
“Anchises! Happiest of the human strain!
I am no Goddess! Why, a thrall to death
Think’st thou like those that immortality breathe?
A woman brought me forth; my father’s name
Was Otreüs, if ever his high fame
Thine ears have witness’d, for he govern’d all
The Phrygian state, whose every town a wall
Impregnable embrac’d. Your tongue, you hear,
I speak so well, that in my natural sphere
(As I pretend) it must have taken prime.
A woman, likewise, of the Trojan clime
Took of me, in her house, the nurse’s care
From my dear mother’s bosom; and thus are
My words of equal accent with your own.
How here I come, to make the reason known,
Argicides, that bears the golden rod,
Transferr’d me forcibly from my abode
Made with the maiden train of Her that joys
In golden shafts, and loves so well the noise
Of hounds and hunters (heaven’s pure-living Pow’r)
Where many a nymph and maid of mighty dow’r
Chaste sports employ’d, all circled with a crown
Of infinite multitude, to see so shown
Our maiden pastimes. Yet, from all the fair
Of this so forceful concourse, up in air
The golden-rod-sustaining Argus’-Guide
Rapt me in sight of all, and made me ride
Along the clouds with him, enforcing me
Through many a labour of mortality,
Through many an unbuilt region, and a rude,
Where savage beasts devour’d preys warm and crude,
And would not let my fears take one foot’s tread
On Her by whom are all lives comforted,
But said my maiden state must grace the bed
Of king Anchises, and bring forth to thee
Issue as fair as of divine degree.
Which said, and showing me thy moving grace,
Away flew he up to th’ Immortal Race,
And thus came I to thee; Necessity,
With her steel stings, compelling me t’ apply
To her high pow’r my will. But you must I
Implore by Jove, and all the reverence due
To your dear parents, who, in bearing you,
Can bear no mean sail, lead me home to them
An untouch’d maid, being brought up in th’ extreme
Of much too cold simplicity to know
The fiery cunnings that in Venus glow.
Show me to them then, and thy brothers born,
I shall appear none that parts disadorn,
But such as well may serve a brother’s wife,
And show them now, even to my future life,
If such or no my present will extend.
To horse-breed-vary’ng Phrygia likewise send,
T’ inform my sire and mother of my state,
That live for me extreme disconsolate;
Who gold enough, and well-woven weeds, will give.
All whose rich gifts in my amends receive.
&nbs
p; All this perform’d, and celebration then
Of honour’d nuptials, that by God and men
Are held in reverence.” All this while she said,
Into his bosom jointly she convey’d
The fires of love; when, all-enamour’d, he
In these terms answer’d: “If mortality
Confine thy fortunes, and a woman were
Mother to those attractions that appear
In thy admir’d form, thy great father given
High name of Otreüs; and the Spy of heaven
(Immortal Mercury) th’ enforceful cause
That made thee lose the prize of that applause
That modesty immaculate virgins gives,
My wife thou shalt be call’d through both our lives.
Nor shall the pow’rs of men nor Gods withhold
My fiery resolution to enfold
Thy bosom in mine arms; which here I vow
To firm performance, past delay, and now.
Nor, should Apollo with his silver bow
Shoot me to instant death, would I forbear
To do a deed so full of cause so dear.
For with a heaven-sweet woman I will lie,
Though straight I stoop the house of Dis, and die.”
This said, he took her hand, and she took way
With him, her bright eyes casting round; whose stay
She stuck upon a bed, that was before
Made for the king, and wealthy coverings wore.
On which bears’ hides and big-voic’d lions’ lay,
Whose preyful lives the king had made his prey,
Hunting th’ Idalian hills. This bed when they
Had both ascended, first he took from her
The fiery weed, that was her utmost wear;
Unbutton’d her next rosy robe; and loos’d
The girdle that her slender waist enclos’d;
Unlac’d her buskins; all her jewelry
Took from her neck and breasts, and all laid by
Upon a golden-studded chair of state.
Th’ amaze of all which being remov’d, even Fate
And council of the equal Gods gave way
To this, that with a deathless Goddess lay
A deathful man; since, what his love assum’d,
Not with his conscious knowledge was presum’d.
Now when the shepherds and the herdsmen, all,
Turn’d from their flow’ry pasture to their stall,
With all their oxen, fat and frolic sheep,
Venus into Anchises cast a sleep,
Sweet and profound; while with her own hands now
With her rich weeds she did herself endow;
But so distinguish’d, that he clear might know
His happy glories; then (to her desire
Her heavenly person put in trims entire)
She by the bed stood of the well-built stall,
Advanc’d her head to state celestial,
And in her cheeks arose the radiant hue
Of rich-crown’d Venus to apparent view.
And then she rous’d him from his rest, and said:
“Up, my Dardanides, forsake thy bed.
What pleasure, late employ’d, lets humour steep
Thy lids in this inexcitable sleep?
Wake, and now say, if I appear to thee
Like her that first thine eyes conceited me.”
This started him from sleep, though deep and dear,
And passing promptly he enjoy’d his ear.
But when his eye saw Venus’ neck and eyes,
Whose beauties could not bear the counterprise
Of any other, down his own eyes fell,
Which pallid fear did from her view repell,
And made him, with a main respect beside,
Turn his whole person from her state, and hide
(With his rich weed appos’d) his royal face,
These wing’d words using: “When, at first, thy grace
Mine eyes gave entertainment, well I knew
Thy state was deified; but thou told’st not true;
And therefore let me pray thee (by thy love
Borne to thy father, Ægis-bearing Jove)
That thou wilt never let me live to be
An abject, after so divine degree
Taken in fortune, but take ruth on me,
For any man that with a Goddess lies,
Of interest in immortalities,
Is never long-liv’d.” She replied: “Forbear,
O happiest of mortal men, this fear,
And rest assured, that (not for me, at least)
Thy least ills fear fits; no, nor for the rest
Of all the Blessed, for thou art their friend;
And so far from sustaining instant end,
That to thy long-enlarg’d life there shall spring
Amongst the Trojans a dear son, and king,
To whom shall many a son, and son’s son, rise
In everlasting great posterities;
His name Æneas; therein keeping life,
For ever, in my much-conceited grief,
That I, immortal, fell into the bed
Of one whose blood mortality must shed.
But rest thou comforted, and all the race
That Troy shall propagate, in this high grace:
That, past all races else, the Gods stand near
Your glorious nation, for the forms ye bear,
And natures so ingenuous and sincere.
For which, the great-in-counsels (Jupiter)
Your gold-lock’d Ganymedes did transfer
(In rapture far from men’s depressed fates)
To make him consort with our Deified States,
And scale the tops of the Saturnian skies,
He was so mere a marvel in their eyes.
And therefore from a bowl of gold he fills
Red nectar, that the rude distension kills
Of winds that in your human stomachs breed.
But then did languor on the liver feed
Of Tros, his father, that was king of Troy,
And ever did his memory employ 2
With loss of his dear beauty so bereaven,
Though with a sacred whirlwind rapt to heaven.
But Jove, in pity of him, saw him given
Good compensation, sending by Heaven’s Spy
White-swift-hov’d horse, that Immortality
Had made firm-spirited; and had, beside,
Hermes to see his ambassy supplied
With this vow’d bounty (using all at large
That his unalter’d counsels gave in charge)
That he himself should immortality breathe,
Expert of age and woe as well as death.
“This ambassy express’d, he mourn’d no more,
But up with all his inmost mind he bore,
Joying that he, upon his swift-hov’d horse,
Should be sustain’d in an eternal course.”
“So did the golden-throned Aurora raise,
Into her lap, another that the praise
Of an immortal fashion had in fame,
And of your nation bore the noble name,
(His title Tithon) who, not pleased with her,
As she his lovely person did transfer,
To satisfy him, she bade ask of Jove
The gift of an Immortal for her love.
Jove gave, and bound it with his bowed brow,
Performing to the utmost point his vow.
/>
Fool that she was, that would her love engage,
And not as long ask from the bane of age
The sweet exemption, and youth’s endless flow’r!
Of which as long as both the grace and pow’r
His person entertain’d, she loved the man,
And (at the fluents of the ocean
Near Earth’s extreme bounds) dwelt with him; but when
According to the course of aged men)
On his fair head, and honourable beard,
His first grey hairs to her light eyes appear’d,
She left his bed, yet gave him still for food
The Gods’ ambrosia, and attire as good.
Till even the hate of age came on so fast
That not a lineament of his was grac’d
With pow’r of motion, nor did still sustain,
Much less, the vigour had t’ advance a vein,
The virtue lost in each exhausted limb,
That at his wish before would answer him;
All pow’rs so quite decay’d, that when he spake
His voice no perceptible accent brake.
Her counsel then thought best to strive no more,
But lay him in his bed and lock his door.
Such an Immortal would not I wish thee,
T’ extend all days so to eternity.
But if, as now, thou couldst perform thy course
In grace of form, and all corporeal force,
To an eternal date, thou then shouldst bear
My husband’s worthy name, and not a tear
Should I need rain, for thy deserts declin’d,
From my all-clouded bitterness of mind.
But now the stern storm of relentless age
Will quickly circle thee, that waits t’ engage
All men alike, even loathsomeness, and bane
Attending with it, every human wane,
Which even the Gods hate. Such a penance lies
Impos’d on flesh and blood’s infirmities!
Which I myself must taste in great degree,
And date as endless, for consorting thee.
All the Immortals with my opprobry
Are full by this time; on their hearts so lie,
(Even to the sting of fear) my cunnings us’d,
And wiving conversations infus’d
Into the bosoms of the best of them
With women, that the frail and mortal stream
Doth daily ravish. All this long since done.
Which now no more, but with effusion
Of tears, I must in heaven so much as name,
I have so forfeited in this my fame,
And am impos’d pain of so great a kind
For so much erring from a Goddess’ mind.
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 172