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And on the right Ethemon, borne hard by in Arabie.
Like as the Tyger when he heares the lowing out of Neate
In sundrie Medes, enforced sore through abstinence from meate,
Would faine be doing with them both, and can not tell at which
Were best to give adventure first: so Persey who did itch
To be at host with both of them, and doubtfull whether side
To turne him on, the right or left, upon advantage spide . . . [V. 210]
? ? ? Did wound me Molphey on the leg, and from him quight him drave. He was contented with his flight: for why Ethemon gave
No respite to him to pursue: but like a franticke man
Through egernesse to wounde his necke, without regarding whan Or how to strike for haste, he burst his brittle sworde in twain Against the Arche: the poynt whereof rebounding backe againe, Did hit himselfe upon the throte. Howbeit that same wound
Was unsufficient for to sende Ethemon to the ground.
He trembled holding up his handes for mercie, but in vaine,
For Persey thrust him through the heart with Hermes hooked skaine. . . . [V . 220]
But when he saw that valiantnesse no lenger could avayle,
By reason of the multitude that did him still assayle:
Sith you your selves me force to call mine enmie to mine ayde,
I will do so: if any friend of mine be here (he sayd)
Sirs, turne your faces all away: and therewithall he drew
Out Gorgons head. One Thessalus streight raging to him flew,
And sayd: Go seeke some other man whome thou mayst make abasht With these thy foolish juggling toyes. And as he would have dasht
His Javeling in him with that worde to kill him out of hand,
With gesture throwing forth his Dart all Marble did he stand. . . . [V. 230] His sworde through Lyncids noble heart had Amphix thought to shove: His hand was stone, and neyther one nor other way could move:
But Niley who did vaunt himselfe to be the Rivers sonne
That through the boundes of Aegypt land in channels seven doth runne, And in his shielde had graven part of silver, part of golde
The said seven channels of the Nile, sayd: Persey here beholde
From whence we fetch our piedegree: it may rejoyce thy hart
To die of such a noble hand as mine. The latter part
Of these his words could scarce be heard: the dint thereof was drownde: Ye would have thought him speaking still with open mouth: but sound . . . V . 240]
Did none forth passe: there was for speache no passage to be found. Rebuking them cries Eryx: Sirs, it is not Gorgons face,
? ? It is your owne faint heartes that make you stonie in this case.
Come let us on this fellow run and to the ground him beare
That feightes by witchcraft: as with that his feete forth stepping were, They stacke still fastened to the floore: he could not move aside,
An armed image all of stone he speachlesse did abide.
All these were justly punished. But one there was a knight
Of Perseys band, in whose defence as Acont stoode to feight,
He waxed overgrowne with stone at ugly Gorgons sight. . . . [V. 250] Whome still as yet Astyages supposing for to live,
Did with a long sharpe arming sworde a washing blow him give.
The sword did clinke against the stone and out the sparcles drive. While all amazde Astyages stoode wondring at the thing,
The selfsame nature on himselfe the Gorgons head did bring.
And in his visage which was stone a countnance did remaine
Of wondring still. A wearie worke it were to tell you plaine
The names of all the common sort. Two hundred from that fray
Did scape unslaine: but none of them did go alive away.
The whole two hundred every one at sight of Gorgons heare . . . [V. 260] Were turned into stockes of stone. Then at the length for feare
Did Phyney of his wrongfull war forthinke himselfe full sore.
But now (alas) what remedie? he saw there stand before
His face, his men like Images in sundrie shapes all stone.
He knew them well, and by their names did call them everychone: Desiring them to succor him: and trusting not his sight
He feeles the bodies that were next, and all were Marble quight.
He turnes himselfe from Persey ward and humbly as he standes
He wries his armes behind his backe: and holding up his handes,
O noble Persey, thou hast got the upper hand, he sed. . . . [V. 270]
Put up that monstruous shield of thine; put up that Gorgons head
That into stones transformeth men: put up, I thee desire.
Not hatred, nor bicause to reigne as King I did aspire,
Have moved me to make this fray. The only force of love
In seeking my betrothed spouse, did hereunto me move.
The better title seemeth thine bicause of thy desert:
? ? And mine by former promise made. It irkes me at the heart
In that I did not give the place. None other thing I crave
O worthie knight, but that thou graunt this life of mine to save.
Let all things else beside be thine. As he thus humbly spake . . . [V. 280] Nor daring looke at him to whome he did entreatance make,
The thing (quoth Persey) which to graunt both I can finde in heart,
And is no little courtesie to shewe without desert
Upon a Coward, I will graunt, O fearfull Duke, to thee.
Set feare aside: thou shalt not hurt with any weapon bee.
I will moreover so provide as that thou shalt remaine
An everlasting monument of this dayes toyle and paine.
The pallace of my Fathrinlaw shall henceforth be thy shrine
Where thou shalt stand continually before my spouses eyen,
That of hir husband having ay the Image in hir sight, . . . [V. 290]
She may from time to time receyve some comfort and delight.
He had no sooner sayd these wordes but that he turnde his shielde
With Gorgons heade to that same part where Phyney with a mielde
And fearfull countnance set his face. Then also as he wride
His eyes away, his necke waxt stiffe, his teares to stone were dride.
A countnance in the stonie stocke of feare did still appeare
With humble looke and yeelding handes and gastly ruthfull cheare.
With conquest and a noble wife doth Persey home repaire
And in revengement of the right against the wrongfull heyre,
As in his Graundsires just defence, he falles in hand with Prete . . . [V. 300] Who like no brother but a foe did late before defeate
King Acrise of his townes by warre and of his royall seate.
But neyther could his men of warre nor fortresse won by wrong
Defend him from the griesly looke of grim Medusa long.
And yet thee, foolish Polydect of little Seriph King,
Such rooted rancor inwardly continually did sting,
That neyther Perseys prowesse tride in such a sort of broyles
Nor yet the perils he endurde, nor all his troublous toyles
Could cause thy stomacke to relent. Within thy stonie brest
Workes such a kinde of festred hate as cannot be represt. . . . [V. 310]
Thy wrongfull malice hath none ende. Moreover thou of spite Repining at his worthy praise, his doings doste backbite: Upholding that Medusas death was but a forged lie:
So long till Persey for to shewe the truth apparantly,
Desiring such as were his friendes to turne away their eye,
Drue out Medusa's ougly head. At sight whereof anon
The hatefull Tyran Polydect was turned to a stone.
The Goddesse Pallas all this while did keepe continually
Hir brother Persey companie, till now that she did stie
From Seriph in a hollow cloud, and leaving on the right . . . [V. 320] The Iles of Scyre and Gyaros, she made from thence hir flight Directly over that same Sea as neare as eye could ame
To Thebe and Mount Helicon, and when she thither came,
She stayde hir selfe, and thus bespake the learned sisters nine:
A rumor of an uncouth spring did pierce these eares of mine
The which the winged stede should make by stamping with his hoofe. This is the cause of my repaire: I would for certaine proofe
Be glad to see the wondrous thing. For present there I stoode
And saw the selfesame Pegasus spring of his mothers blood.
Dame Uranie did entertaine and answere Pallas thus: . . . [V. 330]
What cause so ever moves your grace to come and visit us,
Most heartely you welcome are: and certaine is the fame
Of this our Spring, that Pegasus was causer of the same.
And with that worde she led hir forth to see the sacred spring.
Who musing greatly with hir selfe at straungenesse of the thing, Surveyde the Woodes and groves about of auncient stately port.
And when she saw the Bowres to which the Muses did resort,
And pleasant fields beclad with herbes of sundrie hew and sort,
She said that for their studies sake they were in happie cace
And also that to serve their turne they had so trim a place. . . . [V. 340] Then one of them replied thus: O noble Ladie who
(But that your vertue greater workes than these are calles you to) Should else have bene of this our troupe, your saying is full true.
To this our trade of life and place is commendation due.
? ? And sure we have a luckie lot and if the world were such
As that we might in safetie live, but lewdnesse reignes so much
That all things make us Maides afraide. Me thinkes I yet do see
The wicked Tyran Pyren still: my heart is yet scarce free
From that same feare with which it hapt us flighted for to bee.
This cruell Pyren was of Thrace and with his men of war . . . [V. 350] The land of Phocis had subdude, and from this place not far
Within the Citie Dawlis reignde by force of wrongfull hand,
One day to Phebus Temples warde that on Parnasus stand
As we were going, in our way he met us courteously,
And by the name of Goddesses saluting reverently
Said: O ye Dames of Meonie (for why he knew us well)
I pray you stay and take my house untill this storme (there fell
That time a tempest and a showre) be past: the Gods aloft
Have entred smaller sheddes than mine full many a time and oft.
The rainie wether and hys wordes so moved us, that wee . . . [V. 360] To go into an outer house of his did all agree.
As soone as that the showre was past and heaven was voyded cleare Of all the Cloudes which late before did every where appeare,
Until that Boreas had subdude the rainie Southerne winde,
We woulde have by and by bene gone. He shet the doores in minde To ravishe us: but we with wings escaped from his hands.
He purposing to follow us, upon a Turret stands,
And sayth he needes will after us the same way we did flie.
And with that worde full frantickly he leapeth downe from hie,
And pitching evelong on his face the bones asunder crasht, . . . [V. 370] And dying, all abrode the ground his wicked bloud bedasht.
Now as the Muse was telling this, they heard a noyse of wings
And from the leavie boughes aloft a sound of greeting rings.
Minerva looking up thereat demaunded whence the sounde
Of tongues that so distinctly spake did come so plaine and rounde? She thought some woman or some man had greeted hir that stounde. It was a flight of Birdes. Nyne Pies bewailing their mischaunce
In counterfetting everie thing from bough to bough did daunce.
? ? ? As Pallas wondred at the sight, the Muse spake thus in summe: These also being late ago in chalenge overcome, . . . [V. 380]
Made one kinde more of Birdes than was of auncient time beforne. In Macedone they were about the Citie Pella borne
Of Pierus, a great riche Chuffe, and Euip, who by ayde
Of strong Lucina travailing nine times, nine times was laide
Of daughters in hir childbed safe. This fond and foolish rout
Of doltish sisters taking pride and waxing verie stout,
Bicause they were in number nine came flocking all togither
Through all the townes of Thessalie and all Achaia hither,
And us with these or such like wordes to combate did provoke.
Cease off, ye Thespian Goddesses, to mocke the simple folke . . . [V. 390] With fondnesse of your Melodie. And if ye thinke in deede
Ye can doe ought, contend with us and see how you shall speede.
I warrant you ye passe us not in cunning nor in voyce.
Ye are here nine, and so are we. We put you to the choyce,
That eyther we will vanquish you and set you quight beside
Your fountaine made by Pegasus which is your chiefest pride,
And Aganippe too: or else confounde you us, and we
Of all the woods of Macedone will dispossessed be
As farre as snowie Peonie: and let the Nymphes be Judges
Now in good sooth it was a shame to cope with suchie Drudges, . . .
[V . 400]
But yet more shame it was to yeeld. The chosen Nymphes did sweare By Styx, and sate them downe on seates of stone that growed there. Then streight without commission or election of the rest,
The formost of them preasing forth undecently, profest
The chalenge to performe: and song the battels of the Goddes.
She gave the Giants all the praise, the honor and the oddes,
Abasing sore the worthie deedes of all the Gods. She telles
How Typhon issuing from the earth and from the deepest helles,
Made all the Gods above afraide, so greatly that they fled
And never staide till Aegypt land and Nile whose streame is shed . . .
[V . 410]
? ? ? ? ? In channels seven, received them forwearied all togither:
And how the Helhound Typhon did pursue them also thither.
By meanes wherof the Gods eche one were faine themselves to hide In forged shapes. She saide that Jove the Prince of Gods was wride In shape of Ram: which is the cause that at this present tide
Joves ymage which the Lybian folke by name of Hammon serve,
Is made with crooked welked hornes that inward still doe terve: That Phebus in a Raven lurkt, and Bacchus in a Geate,
And Phebus sister in a Cat, and Juno in a Neate,
And Venus in the shape of Fish, and how that last of all . . . [V. 420] Mercurius hid him in a Bird which Ibis men doe call.
This was the summe of all the tale which she with rolling tung
And yelling throteboll to hir harpe before us rudely sung.
Our turne is also come to speake, but that perchaunce your grace
To give the hearing to our song hath now no time nor space.
Yes yes (quoth Pallas) tell on forth in order all your tale:
And downe she sate among the trees which gave a pleasant swale. The Muse made aunswere thus: To one Calliope here by name
This chalenge we committed have and ordring of the same.
Then rose up faire Calliope with goodly bush of heare . . . [V. 430] Trim wreathed up with yvie leaves, and with hir thumbe gan steare The quivering strings, to trie them if they were in tune or no.
Which done, she playde upon hir Lute and song hir Ditie so:
Dame Ceres first to breake the Earth with plough the maner found, She first made corne and stover soft to grow upon the ground.
She first made lawes: for all these things we are to Ceres bound.
Of hir must I as now intreate: would God I could resound
Hir worthie laude: she doubtlesse is a Goddesse worthie praise.
Bicause the Giant Typhon gave presumptuously assayes
To conquer Heaven, the howgie Ile of Trinacris is layd . . . [V. 440] Upon his limmes, by weight whereof perforce he downe is weyde. He strives and strugles for to rise full many a time and oft.
But on his right hand toward Rome Pelorus standes aloft: Pachynnus standes upon his left: his legs with Lilybie
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? Are pressed downe: his monstrous head doth under Aetna lie.
From whence he lying bolt upright with wrathfull mouth doth spit
Out flames of fire. He wrestleth oft and walloweth for to wit
And if he can remove the weight of all that mightie land
Or tumble downe the townes and hilles that on his bodie stand.
By meanes whereof it commes to passe that oft the Earth doth shake: . . .
[V . 450]
And even the King of Ghostes himselfe for verie feare doth quake, Misdoubting lest the Earth should clive so wide that light of day
Might by the same pierce downe to Hell and there the Ghostes affray. Forecasting this, the Prince of Fiendes forsooke his darksome hole,
And in a Chariot drawen with Steedes as blacke as any cole
The whole foundation of the Ile of Sicill warely vewde.
When throughly he had sercht eche place that harme had none ensewde, As carelessly he raungde abrode, he chaaunced to be seene
Of Venus sitting on hir hill: who taking streight betweene
Hir armes hir winged Cupid, said: My sonne, mine only stay, . . . [V. 460] My hand, mine honor and my might, go take without delay
Those tooles which all wightes do subdue, and strike them in the hart
Of that same God that of the world enjoyes the lowest part.
The Gods of Heaven, and Jove himselfe, the powre of Sea and Land
And he that rules the powres on Earth obey thy mightie hand:
And wherefore then should only Hell still unsubdued stand?
Thy mothers Empire and thine own why doste thou not advaunce?
The third part of al the world now hangs in doubtful chaunce.
And yet in heaven too now, their deedes thou seest me faine to beare.
We are despisde: the strength of love with me away doth weare. . . . [V. 470] Seeste not the Darter Diane and dame Pallas have already
Exempted them from my behestes? and now of late so heady
Is Ceres daughter too, that if we let hir have hir will,
She will continue all hir life a Maid unwedded still.
For that is all hir hope, and marke whereat she mindes to shoote.
But thou (if ought this gracious turne our honor may promote,
Or ought our Empire beautifie which joyntly we doe holde,)
This Damsell to hir uncle joyne. No sooner had she tolde
These wordes, but Cupid opening streight his quiver chose therefro
One arrow (as his mother bade) among a thousand mo. . . . [V. 480]
But such a one it was, as none more sharper was than it,
Nor none went streighter from the Bow the aimed marke to hit.
He set his knee against his Bow and bent it out of hande,
And made his forked arrowes steale in Plutos heart to stande.
Neare Enna walles there standes a Lake: Pergusa is the name.
Cayster heareth not mo songs of Swannes than doth the same.
A wood environs everie side the water round about,
And with his leaves as with a veyle doth keepe the Sunne heat out.
The boughes doe yeelde a coole fresh Ayre: the moystnesse of the grounde Yeeldes sundrie flowres: continuall spring is all the yeare there founde. . . . [V . 490]
While in this garden Proserpine was taking hir pastime,
In gathering eyther Violets blew, or Lillies white as Lime,
And while of Maidenly desire she fillde hir Maund and Lap,
Endevoring to outgather hir companions there, by hap
Dis spide hir: lovde hir: caught hir up: and all at once well nere,
So hastie, hote, and swift a thing is Love as may appeare.
The Ladie with a wailing voyce afright did often call
Hir mother and hir waiting Maides, but Mother most of all.
And as she from the upper part hir garment would have rent,
By chaunce she let hir lap slip downe, and out hir flowres went. . . . [V. 500] And such a sillie simplenesse hir childish age yet beares,
That even the verie losse of them did move hir more to teares.
The Catcher drives his Chariot forth, and calling every horse
By name, to make away apace he doth them still enforce:
And shakes about their neckes and Manes their rustie bridle reynes
And through the deepest of the Lake perforce he them constreynes.
And through the Palik pooles, the which from broken ground doe boyle And smell of Brimstone verie ranke: and also by the soyle
Where as the Bacchies, folke of Corinth with the double Seas,
Betweene unequall Havons twaine did reere a towne for ease. . . . [V. 510]
? ? ? ? Betweene the fountaines of Cyane and Arethuse of Pise
An arme of Sea that meetes enclosde with narrow hornes there lies.
Of this the Poole callde Cyane which beareth greatest fame
Among the Nymphes of Sicilie did algates take the name.
Who vauncing hir unto the waste amid hir Poole did know
Dame Proserpine, and said to Dis: Ye shall no further go:
You cannot Ceres sonneinlawe be, will she so or no.
You should have sought hir courteously and not enforst hir so.
And if I may with great estates my simple things compare,
Anapus was in love with me: but yet he did not fare . . . [V. 520]
As you doe now with Proserpine. He was content to woo
And I unforst and unconstreind consented him untoo.
This said, she spreaded forth hir armes and stopt him of his way.
His hastie wrath Saturnus sonne no lenger then could stay.
But chearing up his dreadfull Steedes did smight his royall mace
With violence in the bottome of the Poole in that same place.
The ground streight yeelded to his stroke and made him way to Hell, And downe the open gap both horse and Chariot headlong fell.
Dame Cyan taking sore to heart as well the ravishment
Of Proserpine against hir will, as also the contempt . . . [V. 530]
Against hir fountaines priviledge, did shrowde in secret hart
An inward corsie comfortlesse, which never did depart
Untill she melting into teares consumde away with smart.
The selfesame waters of the which she was but late ago
The mighty Goddesse, now she pines and wastes hirselfe into.
Ye might have seene hir limmes wex lithe, ye might have bent hir bones. Hir nayles wext soft: and first of all did melt the smallest ones:
As haire and fingars, legges and feete: for these same slender parts
Doe quickly into water turne, and afterward converts
To water, shoulder, backe, brest, side: and finally in stead . . . [V. 540]
Of lively bloud, within hir veynes corrupted there was spred
Thinne water: so that nothing now remained whereupon
Ye might take holde, to water all consumed was anon.
The carefull mother in the while did seeke hir daughter deare
? ? ? ? Through all the world both Sea and Land, and yet was nere the neare. The Morning with hir deawy haire hir slugging never found,
Nor yet the Evening star that brings the night upon the ground.
Two seasoned Pynetrees at the mount of Aetna did she light
And bare them restlesse in hir handes through all the dankish night. Againe as soone as chierfull day did dim the starres, she sought . . . [V. 550] Hir daughter still from East to West. And being overwrought
She caught a thirst: no liquor yet had come within hir throte.
By chaunce she spied nere at hand a pelting thatched Cote
Wyth peevish doores: she knockt thereat, and out there commes a trot. The Goddesse asked hir some drinke and she denide it not:
But out she brought hir by and by a draught of merrie go downe
And therewithall a Hotchpotch made of steeped Barlie browne
And Flaxe and Coriander seede and other simples more
The which she in an Earthen pot together sod before.
While Ceres was a eating this, before hir gazing stood . . . [V. 560]
A hard faaste boy, a shrewde pert wag, that could no maners good:
He laughed at hir and in scorne did call hir greedie gut.
The Goddesse being wroth therewith, did on the Hotchpotch put
The liquor ere that all was eate, and in his face it threw.
Immediatly the skinne thereof became of speckled hew,
And into legs his armes did turn: and in his altred hide
A wrigling tayle streight to his limmes was added more beside.
And to th' intent he should not have much powre to worken scathe,
His bodie in a little roume togither knit she hathe.
For as with pretie Lucerts he in facion doth agree: . . . [V. 570]
So than the Lucert somewhat lesse in every poynt is he.
The poore old woman was amazde: and bitterly she wept:
She durst not touche the uncouthe worme, who into corners crept.
And of the flecked spottes like starres that on his hide are set
A name agreeing thereunto in Latine doth he get.
It is our Swift whose skinne with gray and yellow specks is fret.
What Lands and Seas the Goddesse sought it were too long to saine.
The worlde did want. And so she went to Sicill backe againe.
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? And is in going every where she serched busily,
She also came to Cyane: who would assuredly . . . [V. 580]
Have tolde hir all things, had she not transformed bene before.
But mouth and tongue for uttrance now would serve hir turne no more. Howbeit a token manifest she gave hir for to know
What was become of Proserpine. Her girdle she did show
Still hovering on hir holie poole, which slightly from hir fell
As she that way did passe: and that hir mother knew too well.
For when she saw it, by and by as though she had but then
Bene new advertisde of hir chaunce, she piteously began
To rend hir ruffled haire, and beate hir handes against hir brest.
As yet she knew not where she was. But yet with rage opprest, . . . [V. 590] She curst all landes, and said they were unthankfull everychone,
Yea and unworthy of the fruites bestowed them upon.
But bitterly above the rest she banned Sicilie,
In which the mention of hir losse she plainely did espie.
And therefore there with cruell hand the earing ploughes she brake,
And man and beast that tilde the grounde to death in anger strake.
She marrde the seede, and eke forbade the fieldes to yeelde their frute. The plenteousnesse of that same Ile of which there went suche bruit Through all the world, lay dead: the corne was killed in the blade:
Now too much drought, now too much wet did make it for to fade. . . .
[V . 600]
The starres and blasting windes did hurt, the hungry foules did eate
The corne to ground: the Tines and Briars did overgrow the Wheate.
And other wicked weedes the corne continually annoy,
Which neyther tylth nor toyle of man was able to destroy.
Then Arethuse, floud Alpheys love, lifts from hir Elean waves
Hir head, and shedding to hir eares hir deawy haire that waves
About hir foreheade sayde: O thou that art the mother deare
Both of the Maiden sought through all the world both far and neare,
And eke of all the earthly fruites, forbeare thine endlesse toyle,
And be not wroth without a cause with this thy faithfull soyle: . . . [V. 610] The Lande deserves no punishment. Unwillingly, God wote,
? ? She opened to the Ravisher that violently hir smote.
It is not sure my native soyle for which I thus entreate.
I am but here a sojurner, my native soyle and seate
In Pisa and from Ely towne I fetch my first discent.
I dwell but as a straunger here: but sure to my intent
This Contrie likes me better farre than any other land.
Here now I Arethusa dwell: here am I setled: and
I humbly you beseche extend your favor to the same.
A time will one day come when you to mirth may better frame, . . . [V. 620] And have your heart more free from care, which better serve me may
To tell you why I from my place so great a space doe stray,
And unto Ortygie am brought through so great Seas and waves.
The ground doth give me passage free, and by the lowest caves
Of all the Earth I make my way, and here I raise my heade,
And looke upon the starres agayne neare out of knowledge fled.
Now while I underneath the Earth the Lake of Styx did passe,
I saw your daughter Proserpine with these same eyes. She was
Not merrie, neyther rid of feare as seemed by hir cheere.
But yet a Queene, but yet of great God Dis the stately Feere: . . . [V. 630] But yet of that same droupie Realme the chiefe and sovereigne Peere.
Hir mother stoode as starke as stone, when she these newes did heare, And long she was like one that in another worlde had beene.
But when hir great amazednesse by greatnesse of hir teene
Was put aside, she gettes hir to hir Chariot by and by
And up to heaven in all post haste immediately doth stie.
And there beslowbred all hir face: hir haire about hir eares,
To royall Jove in way of plaint this spightfull tale she beares:
As well for thy bloud as for mine a suter unto thee
I hither come. If no regard may of the mother bee . . .