The Second Part of Hero and Leander

The Second Part of Hero and Leander. Conteyning their further Fortunes. By Henry Petowe. Sat citò, ſi ſit bene. LONDON, Printed by Thomas Purfoot, for Andrew Harris, and are to be ſould at his ſhop, vnder the Popes head next to the Royall Exchange. 1598.

To the Right worſhipfull ſir Henrie Guilford Knight, H. P. vviſheth all encreaſe of worſhip, and endleße Felicitie.

RIght Worſhipfull, although preſumption merite pennance in dedicating ſuch rude and vnpolliſhed lynes, to the protection of ſo worthy a perſonage: yet I hope your wonted fauor and clemencie will priuiledge mee from blame, and accept of the giuer, as one who woulde hazard life to moue your Wor : the leaſt iot of content. Yf it be thought a point of wiſdome in that impoueriſhed ſoule, that by taking ſanctuarie, doth free himſelfe from many dangers: then impute no blame vnto my ſelfe, that ſeeke for ſafegard, being round beſet with many enemies. No ſoner had report made knowen my harmeles Muſes firſt progreſſe, how ſhe intended to make tryall of her vnfledged plumes; but (my ſelfe being preſent where that babling dame was prating) I heard iniurious Enuy, reply to this effect,

Dares ſhe preſume to flie, that cannot goe?

We’le cut her plumes ſaid they, it ſhall be ſo.

Then with a ſnarle or twoo, theſe euer medling Carpers betooke them to their cabbins. At the next rowſing; I expect no other fauor, then Enuies extreameſt furie, which to withſtand, if I may purchaſe your Wor: ſafe protection, no better guarde will my fearefull ſoule deſire. To make the cauſe manifeſt vnto your worthines, why Enuie thus barketh at mee, I intreat your wiſedome to conſider the ſequel. This Hiſtorie of Hero and Leander, penned by that admired Poet Marloe: but not finiſhed (being preuented by ſodaine death:) and the ſame (though not abruptly, yet contrary to all menns expectation) reſting like a heade ſeperated from the body, with this harſh ſentence, De ſunt nonnulla. I being inriched by a Gentleman a friend of mine, with the true Italian diſcourſe, of thoſe Louers further Fortunes, haue preſumed to finiſh the Hiſtorie, though not ſo well as diuers riper wits doubtles would haue done: but as it is rude and not praiſe worthy: ſo neyther doe I expect praiſe nor commendations. This therefore is the cauſe of their ſodayne enmitie, that I being but a flie dare preſume to ſoare wyth the Aegle. But how-euer they diſlike it, maye your worthines but grace this my firſt labor with your kind acceptance, my hart ſhal enioy the depth of his deſire: And your Wor: ſhall continually bind me in all ſeruiceable dutie to reſt vnto your worſhip alwaies deuoted.

Your worſhips moſt humbly to commaund.

Henrie Petowe.

To the quicke-ſighted Reader.

KInde Gentlemen, what I would I cannot, but what I could with that litle ſkill I had, I haue preſumed to preſent to your fauourable viewes: I am not aſhamed to beg your kind fauours, becauſe I finde my ſelfe altogether inſufficient to performe that which my good will hath taken in hand: Yet with my ſoule I wiſh my labours maye merite your kynde fauours. Yf not for the toyle herein taken, which I confeſſe haue no way deſerued the leaſt iotte of fauour: yet for the Subiects ſake, for Hero and Leanders ſake. Yf neyther of theſe purchaſe fauour, the frowning browes of ſad diſcontent, will baniſh my poore harmeles Muſe, into the vaſt wide wilderneſſe of eternall obliuion. I am aſſured Gentlemen, you will maruell what follie or rather furie inforced mee to vndertake ſuch a waightie matter, I beeing but a ſlender Atlas to vphoulde or vndergoe ſuch a maßie burthen: yet I hope you will rather aſſiſt, and further mee with the wings of your ſweete fauours, then to hinder my forward indeauours with your diſlikings: eſteeming it as the firſt fruits of an vnripe wit, done at certaine vacant howers: In which hope I reſt captiuated till I be freed by your liberall and kinde Cenſures.

Yours ſtill, if mine euer.

Henrie Petowe.

HERO and LEANDERS further Fortunes.

WHen young Apollo heauens ſacred beautie,

Gan on his ſiluer harpe with reuerent dutie,

To blazen foorth the faire of Tellus wonder,

Whoſe faire, all other faires brought ſubiect vnder:

Heauen gan to frowne at earthes fragilitie,

Made proude with ſuch adored Maieſtie.

Hero the faire, ſo doe I name this faire,

With whome immortall faires might not compare,

Such was her beautie fram’d in heauens ſcorne,

Her ſpotles faire cauſ’d other faires to mourne:

Heauen frown’d, Earth ſham’d, that none ſo faire as ſhe,

Baſe borne of earth in heauen might equall be

Fell moodie Venus pale with fretting ire,

Aye mee (quoth ſhe) for want of her deſire,

Earthes baſeſt mould, fram’d of the baſer duſt,

Strumpet to filth, bawde to loathed luſt:

Worſe then Mædea’s charmes, are thy inticements,

Worſe then the Mermaides ſongs, are thy allurements.

Worſe then the ſnakie hag Tyſiphone,

To mortall ſoules is thy inueagling beautie:

Thus, ſhe exclaimes gainſt harmeles Hero’s faire,

And would the Gods conſent, her dangling haire,

Wherewith the buſie ayre doth often play,

(As wanton birdes vpon a Sunne-ſhine day:)

Should be transform’d to ſnakes all vgly blacke,

To be a meanes of her eternall wracke.

But wanton Ioue ſweete beauties fauorite,

Demaunds of beautie beauties worthy merite:

Yf beauties guerdon merit paine (quoth he,)

Your faire deſerues no leſſe as faire as ſhe,

Then moodie Iuno frowning gan replie,

Ile want my will, but ſtrumpet ſhe ſhall die.

Iuno (quoth he) we ought not tyrannize,

On ſuch (ſaide ſhe) as you doe wantonnize.

But ſince our continent the ſcope of Heauen,

Containes her not, vnleſſe from earth beryuen,

Ile make a tranſformation of her hue,

And force the hautie Mother earth to rue:

That her baſe wombe dare yeilde ſuch baſtard faires,

That Ioue muſt ſeeke on earth immortall heires.

Ile cauſe a ſecond deſperat Phaæton,

To rule the fierie Charriot of the Sunne:

That topſie turuie Heauen and Earth may turne,

That Heauen, Earth, Sea, and Hell may endleſſe burne.

Stay head-ſtrong-goddeſſe Ioue to Iuno ſayde,

Can you doe this without your huſbands ayde?

With that ſhe gan intreate it might be ſo,

But Ioue would not ſweete beautie ouerthrow:

But this he graunted Iuno, that Apollo

Should neuer more extoll the faire of Hero.

His cenſure paſt the irefull Queene doth hie,

To ſet a period to his harmony.

From foorth his yeilding armes ſhe ſoone bereaues

Apollo’s Lute, whom comfortleſſe ſhe leaues,

Making a Thouſand parts of two gould-ſtringes,

Into obliuions Cell the ſame ſhe flinges.

Quicke ſighted ſpirits, this ſuppoſ’d Apollo,

Conceit no other, but th’admired Marlo:

Marlo admir’d, whoſe honney flowing vaine,

No Engliſh writer can as yet attaine.

Whoſe name in Fames immortall treaſurie,

Truth ſhall record to endles memorie,

Marlo late mortall, now fram’d all diuine,

What ſoule more: happy, then that ſoule of thine?

Liue ſtill in heauen thy ſoule, thy fame on earth,

(Thou dead) of Marlo’s Hero findes a dearth.

Weepe aged Tellus, all earth on earth complaine,

Thy chiefe borne faire, hath loſt her faire againe:

Her faire in this is loſt, that Marlo’s want,

Inforceth Hero’s faire be wonderous ſcant.

Oh had that King of poets breathed longer,

Then had faire beauties ſort been much more ſtronger:

His goulden pen had clos’d her ſo about,

No baſtard Æglets quill the world throughout,

Had been of force to marre what he had made,

For why they were not expert in that trade:

What mortall ſoule with Marlo might contend,

That could gainſt reaſon force him ſtoope or bend?

Whoſe ſiluer charming toung, mou’d ſuch delight,

That men would ſhun their ſleepe in ſtill darke night.

To meditate vpon his goulden lynes,

His rare conceyts and ſweete according rimes.

But Marlo ſtill admired Marlo’s gon,

To liue with beautie in Elyzium,

Immortall beautie, who deſires to heare,

His ſacred Poeſies ſweete in euery eare:

Marlo muſt frame to Orpheus melodie,

Himnes all diuine to make heauen harmonie.

There euer liue the Prince of Poetrie,

Liue with the liuing in eternitie.

Apollo’s Lute bereau’d of ſiluer ſtring,

Fond Mercury doth harſhly gin to ſing.

A counterfeit vnto his honney note,

But I doe feare heile chatter it by rote:

Yet if his ill according voice be ſuch,

That (hearing part) you thinke you heare too much.

Beare with his raſhnes and he will amende,

His follie blame, but his good will commend.

Yet rather diſcommend what I intreate,

For if you like it, ſome wil ſtorme and fret.

And then inſulting Ægles ſoaring hie,

Will pray vpon the ſillie harmeles flie:

(Nil refert) for Ile pawne my better part,

Ere ſweete fac’t beautie looſe her due deſart.

Auaunt baſe Steele where ſhrill tong’d ſiluer rings,

The chatt’ring Pie may range when black-birdes ſings:

Birdes blacke as Iet with ſweete according voices,

Like to Elyziums Saincts with heauenly noiſes.

Why ſhould harſh Mercury recount againe,

What ſweet Apollo (liuing) did maintaine?

Which was of Hero her, all pleaſing faire,

Her prettie browes, her lip, her amber haire,

Her roſeat cheeke, her lillie fingers white,

Her ſparkling eyes that lend the day his light:

What ſhould I ſay, her all in all he prayſed,

Wherewith the ſpacious world was much amazed.

Leanders loue, and louers ſweeteſt pleaſure,

He wrought a full diſcourſe of beauties treaſure:

And left me nothing pleaſing to recite,

But of vnconſtant chance, and fortunes ſpight.

Then in this glaſſe view beauties frayltie,

Faire Hero, and Leanders miſerie.

THE virgin Princeſſe of the weſterne Ile,

Faire Cambarina of the goulden ſoile,

And yet not faire, but of a ſwartie hew,

For by her gould, her beautie did renew:

Renew as thus, that hauing gould to ſpare,

Men helde it dutie to proteſt and ſweare,

Her faire was ſuch, as all the world admir’d it,

Her bluſhing beautie ſuch, all men deſir’d it.

The ſcornefull Queene made proude with fained praiſes,

Her black-fram’d ſoule, to a hier rate ſhe raiſes:

That men bewitched with her gould, not beautie,

A Thouſand Knights as homage proffer dutie,

Yf ſuch a baſe deformed lumpe of clay,

In whome no ſweete content had any ſtay,

No pleaſure reſidence, no ſweet delight,

Shelter from heate of day, or cold of night:

Yf ſuch a ſhe ſo many ſutors had,

Hero whoſe angrie frownes made heauen ſad:

Hero whoſe gaze gracing darke Plutos cell,

Pluto would deeme Phaebus came there to dwell.

Hero whoſe eyes heauens fierie tapors ſtaine,

Hero whoſe beautie makes night day againe,

How much more loue merits ſo ſweet a Queene,

Whoſe like no out-worne world hath euer ſeene.

Of ſweete Leanders loue, to Hero’s beautie,

Heauen, Earth, and Hell, and all the world is guiltie,

Of Hero’s kindnes, to her truſtie Phere,

By loſt Apollo’s tale it doth appere,

Recorded in the Regiſter of Fame,

The workes of Marlo doe expreſſe the ſame.

But ere he gan of fickle chance to tell,

How bad chance gainſt the Better did rebell:

When loue in loues ſweet garden newly planted,

Remorcefull Hero to Leander graunted,

Free libertie, to yeild the world increaſe,

Vnconſtant Fortune foe to harmeles peace:

Playde ſuch vnruly prancks in loues deſpight,

That loue was forced from his true-loues ſight.

DVke Archilaus cruell, voyd of pitie,

Where Hero dwelt was regent of that Citie:

Woe worth that towne where bloody homicides,

And Tyrants are elected cities guides.

Woe woorth that countrey where vnlawfull luſt,

Sitts in a Regall throne, of force it muſt

Downe to the low layde bowells of the earth,

Like to a ſtill borne Childes vntimely byrth:

Duke Archilaus lou’d; but whome lou’d he?

He courted Hero, but it would not be.

Why ſhould he plant where other Knights haue ſowen,

The land is his, therefore the fruit his owne,

Luſt it be thus, alas it is not ſo,

Luſt may not force true-louers ouerthrow.

Luſt hath no limits, luſt will haue his will,

Like to a rauening wolfe that’s bent to kill,

The Duke affecting her that was belou’d,

(Hero whoſe firme fixt loue Leander prou’d,)

Gaue on-ſet to the ſtill reſiſting fort,

But fearefull hate ſet period to his ſport.

Luſt egg’d him on to further his deſire,

But fell diſdaine inforc’t him to retire.

When Archilaus ſawe that thundering threates

Could not preuaile, he mildly then intreates.

But all in vaine, the Doo had chooſe her make,

And whome ſhe tooke, ſhe neuer would forſake,

The Doo’s ſweet Deere, this hunter ſeekes to chace,

Harmeles Leander whoſe all ſmiling face

Grac’t with vnſpotted faire to all mens ſight,

Would force the houndes retire, and not to bite:

Which when the Duke perceau’d, an other curre,

Was forced from his den, that made much ſturre,

And treaſon he was nam’d, which helde ſo faſt,

That feares ſwift winges did lend ſome ayde at laſt.

For force perforce Leander muſt depart

From Seſtos, yet behind he left his hart.

His hart in Hero’s breſt, Leander left,

Leanders abſence, Heroes ioyes bereft:

Leanders want, the cruell Duke thought ſure

Some eaſe to diſcontent would ſoone procure.

Leander hauing heard his wofull doome,

Towards his weeping Lady he doth come,

Dewing her cheekes with his diſtilling teares,

Which Hero dryeth with her dangling haires:

They weeping greete each other with ſweete kiſſes,

(Kindly imbracing) thus they gan their wiſhes.

Oh that theſe foulding armes might nere vndoe;

As ſhe deſir’d: ſo wiſht Leander too:

Then with her hand, ſhe toucht his ſacred breſt,

Where in his boſome ſhe deſires to reſt.

Like to a ſnake ſhe clung vnto him faſt,

And wound about him, which ſnatcht-vp in haſt,

By the Prince of birdes, borne lightly vp aloft,

Doth wrythe her ſelfe about his necke, and oft

About his winges diſplayed in the winde,

Or like as Iuie on trees cling bout the rinde:

Or as the Crab-fiſh hauing caught in ſeas

His enemies, doth claſpe him with his cleas.

So ioynd in one, theſe two together ſtood,

Euen as Hermophroditus in the flood:

Vntill the Duke did banniſh him away,

Then gan Leander to his Hero ſay.

{(Let me goe where the Sunne doth parch the greene,

{In temperate heate, where he is felt and ſeene:

{Or where his beames doe not diſſolue the ice,

{In preſence preſt, of people mad or wiſe.

Set mee in high, or elſe in low degree,

In cleareſt ſkie, or where clowdes thickeſt bee,

In longeſt night, or in the ſhorteſt day,

In luſtie youth, or when my haires be gray:

Goe I to heauen, to earth, or elſe to hell,

Thrall or at large, aliue where ſo I dwell,

On hill or dale, or on the foaming flood,

{Sicke or in health, in euill fame or good:

{Thine will I be, and onely with this thought,

{Content thy ſelfe: although my chance be naught.)

Thus parted theſe two louers full of woes,

She ſtaies behinde, on pilgrimage he goes.

Leaue we a while, Leander wandring Knight,

To Delphos taking his all ſpeedie flight,

That by the Oracle of Apollo,

His further Fortunes he may truely knowe.

TRue-loue quite banniſht, luſt began to pleade,

To Hero like a ſcholler deepely reade:

The flaming ſighes, that boyle within my breſt,

Faire loue (quoth he) are cauſe of my vnreſt.

Vnreſt I entertaine for thy ſweet ſake,

And in my tent chooſe ſorrow for my make.

Why doſt thou frowne (quoth he) and then ſhe turn’d

Oh coole the fainting ſoule, that flaming burn’d:

Forc’t by deſire, to touch thy matchles beautie,

To whome thy ſeruant vowes all reuerent dutie.

With that her irefull browes clowded with frownes,

His ſoule already drencht, in woes ſea drownes.

But floating on the waues thus he gan ſay,

Flint harted Lady canſt thou be ſo coy?

Can pittie take no place, is kinde remorce

Quite banniſht, quite fled? then gan he to be horce,

Vnable to exclaime, againſt her longer,

Whoſe woe lament made Hero’s hart more ſtronger.

Hero that gaue no eare to her commaunder,

But euer weepes for her exil’d Leander:

And weeping ſore among’ſt her liquid teares,

Theſe words ſhe ſpake, wherewith her ſorrow weares.

(The piller periſht is, whereto I lent,

To my vnhap, for luſt away hath ſent,

Of all my Ioy, the verie barke and rinde,

The ſtrongeſt ſtay of my vnquiet minde:

And I alas am forc’t without conſent,

Dayly to mourne, till death doe it relent.)

Oh my Leander he is baniſhed,

From his ſweete Hero’s ſight he is exiled.

Oh yee iuſt heauens, if that heauen be iuſt,

Raine the vnbridled head, of hautie luſt,

Make him to ſtoope, that forceth others bend,

Bereaue his ioyes, that reft me of my friend.

I want my ſelfe, for Hero wants her loue,

And where Leander is, my ſelfe doth moue.

What can I more, but haue a woefull hart,

My minde in woe, my body full of ſmart,

And I my ſelfe, my ſelfe alwayes to hate,

Till dreadfull death doe eaſe my dolefull ſtate.

The angry Duke lay liſtning to her words,

And till ſhe ends no ſpeech at all affords,

Vntill at length; exclaiming gainſt her kinde,

Thus he breath’d foorth the venome of his minde.

{ (Oh timerous taunters that delights in toyes,

{Iangling ieſters, depriuers of ſweete ioyes,

{Tumbling cock-boats tottering too and fro,

Grown’d of the graft, whence all my griefe doth grow:

Sullen Serpents enuiron’d with deſpight,

That ill for good at all times doth requite.

As Cypreſſe tree that rent is by the roote,

As well ſowen ſeede, for drought that cannot ſprout.

As braunch or ſlip bitter from whence it growes,

As gaping ground that raineles cannot cloſe:

As fiſh on lande to whome no water flowes,

{As flowers doe fade when Phæbus rareſt ſhowes,

{As Salamandra repulſed from the fier,

{Wanting my wiſh, I die for my deſire.)

Speaking thoſe words death ſeiz’d him for his owne,

Wherewith ſhe thought her woes were ouerthrowne:

Hero ſo thought, but yet ſhe thought amiſſe,

Before ſhe was belou’d: now findes no bliſſe.

Duke Archilaus being ſodaine dead,

Young Euriſtippus ruled in his ſtead:

The next ſucceeding heire to what was his,

Then Hero’s woes increaſt, and fled all blis.

Looke how the ſillie harmeles bleating lambe,

Bereft from his kinde make the gentle dam,

Left as a pray to Butchers crueltie,

In whome ſhe findes not any drop of mercie.

Or like a warriour whom his Souldiors flies,

At his ſhrill eccho of his foes dread cries.

He all vnable to withſtand ſo many,

Not hauing wherewith to combat, nor any

Aſſured friend that dares to comfort him,

Not any way for feare dares ſuccour him.

But as a pray he yeildes to him he would not,

Yf he had helpe, but (helpleſſe) ſtriue he could not.

So far’d it with the meeke diſtreſſed Hero,

That ſweet Leander, banniſhed her fro.

She had no Hercules, to defend her cauſe,

She had no Brandamore diſdaining lawes,

To combat for her ſafetie; this ſweet Io,

Had no kinde Ioue to keepe her from her foe.

This Pſiches had no Cupid, loue was banniſht,

And loue from loue exild, loue needs muſt famiſh.

Wood Euriſtippus for his brothers death,

Like as a toyled huntſman wanting breath,

Stormeth that bad chance in the games purſute,

Should cauſe him panting, reſt as dead and mute.

Or like ſad Orphey for Euridice,

Whom Cerberus bereft ſo haſtilie,

Like to the thundering threates of Hercules,

The worldes admired Prince the great Alcides,

When Neſſus got the height of his deſire;

By rauiſhing his faireſt Deianire.

Such was his ire, and more if more may be,

Which he gainſt Hero breathed ſpightfully:

Thou damned hag: thus gan he to exclaime,

Thou baſe borne Strumpet one of Circes traine.

Durſt thou preſume, poore ſillie ſimple flie,

With Venum’s force, to force an Ægle die?

What though my brother Leander banniſhed,

Muſt he by thee therefore be poyſoned?

Die curſed wretch, with that he caſt her from him,

And would not ſuffer her to looke vpon him.

The ſtill amazed Lady muſing ſtood,

Admiring why the Duke ſhould be ſo wood.

Humbly ſhe proſtrates her at Angers feete,

And with downe dropping teares, like liquid ſleete,

She watereth the Summer thirſtie ground,

Weeping ſo long, ſhe fell into a ſound.

Againe reuiued by the ſtanders by,

She doth intreate them to reſolue her why,

Duke Euriſtippus wrongeth her ſo much,

As to diſhonour her with ſuch a touch.

Well know the Gods my guiltleſſe ſoule (quoth ſhe,)

Was Archilaus poyſoned by me,

Yf ſo? Iuſt heauens and immortall powers,

Raine vengeance downe in all conſuming ſhowers:

And cauſe that Hero, that was counted faire,

Like a mad helliſh furie to diſpaire.

The more ſhe weepes, the more the heauens ſmile,

Scorning that beautie ſhould take any ſoile,

Iuno commaunded Argos to defend her,

But Iupiter would not ſo much befriend her.

Argos ſtarke dead; ſweet Hero might not liue,

For of her life the Duke will her depriue.

Her doome was thus, ere three moneths date tooke end,

If ſhe found none, that would her cauſe defend:

Vntimely death ſhould ſeize her as a pray,

And vnreſiſting life, ſhould death obay.

Meane time within a rocke-fram’d caſtle ſtrong,

She was impriſoned traytors vile among:

Where (diſcontented) when ſhe ſhould haue reſted,

Her foode bad fare, with ſighes and teares ſhe feaſted.

And when the breathleſſe horſes of the Sunne,

Had made their ſtay, and Luna had begun,

With cheerefull ſmyling browes to grace darke night,

Clad in blacke ſable weedes, for want of light.

This all alone ſad Lady gan to play,

Framing ſweet muſick to her welladay:

The’ffect whereof this Sonnet plainely ſhowes,

The fountaine whence ſprings Hero’s heauie woes.

Hero’s lamentation in Priſon.

NIghts mourning blacke and miſtie vailing hew,

Shadowes the bleſſed comfort of the Sunne:

At whoſe bright gaze I wonted to renew

My liueles life, when life was almoſt done.

Done is my life, and all my pleaſure done,

For he is gone, in whome my life begun:

Vnhappie I poore I, and none as I,

But pilgrim he, poore he, that ſhould be by.

MY loue exil’d, and I in priſon faſt,

Out ſtreaming teares breake into weeping raine,

He too ſoone baniſht, I in dungeon-caſt,

He for me mourneth, I for him complaine.

He’s baniſhed, yet liues at libertie,

And I exil’d, yet liue in miſerie:

He weepes for me far off, I for him here,

I would I were with him, and he more nere.

BVt this impriſoning caue, this woefull cell,

This houſe of ſorrow and increaſing woe,

Griefes tearie chamber where ſad care doth dwell,

Where liquid teares, like top fil’d Seas doe flow:

Beating their waues gainſt ſtill relentles ſtone,

Still ſtill they ſmile on me, and I ſtill mone;

I weepe to ſtone, and ſtone of ſtone I finde,

Colde ſtone, colde comfort yeilds (oh moſt vnkinde.)

OFt haue I read that ſtone relents at raine,

And I impleat their barren wombe with ſtore,

Teares ſtreaming downe, they wet and wet againe,

Yet pittileſſe they harden more and more.

And when my longing ſoule lookes they ſhould ſonder,

I touch the flintie ſtone, and they ſeeme ſtronger,

They ſtronge, I weake: alas what hope haue I?

Hero wants comfort, Hero needs muſt die.

WHen the melodious ſhrill toung’d Nightingale,

With heauie cheere had warbled this ſad tale:

Nights drowſie God an iuorie Cannopie,

Curtaines before the windowes of faire beautie.

Drown’d thus in ſleepe, ſhe ſpent the wearie night,

There leaue I Hero in a heauie plight.

Now to the woefull Pilgrime I returne,

Whoſe paſſions force the gentle birdes to mourne.

The ſee Leander weepe, with heauie note

They faintly ſinge, as when they ſinge by rote:

While he gan deſcant on his miſerie,

The pretie fowles doe make him melodie.

Leanders complaint of his restles estate.

BRight Heauens immortall mouing Spheares,

and Phæbus all diuine,

Rue on lowe Earths vnfained teares:

that iſſue from Earths eyne.

Eyes, were theſe no eyes, whilſt eies eye-ſight laſted,

but theſe darke eyes cleere ſight, ſad ſorrow waſted.

WHat creature liuing liues in griefe,

that breathes on Tellus ſoile?

But Heauens pitie with reliefe,

ſaue me, a ſlaue to ſpoyle.

Spoyle doe his worſt, ſpoyle cannot ſpoile me more,

Spoyle neuer ſpoyl’d, ſo true a Loue before.

THe ſtricken Deere ſtands not in awe

of blacke grym irefull Death,

For he findes hearbes that can withdrawe

the ſhaft, to ſaue his breath.

The chaſed Deere hath ſoile to coole his heate,

The toyled Steed is vp in ſtable ſet.

THe ſillie Owles lurke in the leaues,

ſhine Sunne or nights Queene whether:

The Sparrowe ſhrowdes her in the eaues,

from ſtormes of huffing weather.

Fowles comfort finde, Leander findes no friend,

Then (comfortleſſe) Leanders life muſt end.

BY this it pleaſ’d the ſmiling browes of Heauen,

Whoſe deadly frownes, him erſt of ioy beryuen:

To ſet a period to Leanders toyle,

Hauing enioy’d that long deſired ſoyle.

When he had viewd the ſtately territories,

And Delphos ſacred hie erected towers,

Vnto Apollo’s Oracle he goes,

In hope to finde reliefe for many woes;

He craues long lookt-for reſt, or elſe to die,

To whome the Oracle gan thus reply.

The Oracle.

He loueth thine that loues not thee,

His loue to thine ſhall fatall bee.

Vpon ſuſpect ſhe ſhalbe ſlaine,

Vnles thou doe returne againe.

THeſe harſh according rimes to mickle paine,

Did but renewe Leanders woes againe:

Yet as he might, with Fortunes ſweet conſent,

He gins returne all dangers to preuent.

Within ſhort time at Seſtos he ariueth,

On Loues light winges, deſire Leander driueth,

Deſire that longs to view a bleſſed end,

Of Loue and Fortune that ſo long contend.

This backe retired Pilgrime liu’d ſecure,

And in vnknowen diſguiſe, he did indure,

Full two moneths ſpace vntill the time drew nie,

To free faire Hero, or inforce her die:

The date outworne of the prefixed day,

When combatants their valour ſhould diſplay.

(All thinges prepar’d) as blazing fame reported,

T’were wonder to behould how men reſorted.

Knights neighboring by, and Ladies all diuine,

Darting daies ſplendour from their Sunne-like eyne:

Spectatum veniunt, veniunt ſpectantur vt ipſae,

But wanting faire, they come to gaze on beautie,

Beautie faire Heauens beautie, worlds wonder,

Hero whoſe beautie keepes all beautie vnder.

This faire fac’t beautie, from a fowle fac’t cell,

A loath-ſome dungeon like to nights darke hell,

At the fell Dukes commaund in open view,

Was ſent for, on whoſe neuer ſpotted hew,

Earths mortall ſoules doe feed and gaze vpon her,

So long they gaze, that they doe ſurfet on her.

For when this Earthes admir’d immortall Sunne,

To peepe from vnder ſable hould begun.

Like as the pearcing eye of cloudie Heauen,

Whoſe ſight the blacke thicke cloudes haue quite beriuen.

But by the huffing windes being ouerblowen,

And all their blacke expeld and ouerthrowen.

The day doth gin, be iocond ſecure playing,

The faire of Heauen, his beautie ſo diſplaying:

So when the faireſt Hero did begin,

(Whilome yclad in darknes blacke tan’d skin.

To paſſe the noyſome portall of the priſon,

Like to the gorgeous Phæbus newly riſen,

She doth illuminate the morning day,

Clad in a ſable Mantle of blacke Say.

Which Hero’s eyes tranſformed to faire white,

Making the lowring-morne darke, pure light.

As many mortall eyes beheld her eies,

As there are fierie Tapors in the ſkies:

As many eyes gaz’d on faire Hero’s beautie,

As there be eyes that offer Heauen dutie:

As many ſeruitors attended on her,

As Venus, ſeruants had to waite vpon her.

Though by the ſterne Duke ſhe was diſhonored,

Yet of the people ſhe was honored:

Mong’ſt whome exil’d Leander all vnſeene,

And all vnknowne attended on his Queene.

When to the neere-adioyning pallaice gate,

The place appointed for the Princely combate,

They did approch; there might all eies behold,

The Duke in armour of pure beaten gold,

Mounted vpon a Steed as white as ſnow,

The proud Duke Euriſtippus Hero’s foe.

Hero being ſeated in rich Maieſtie,

A ſeruile hand-mayd to Captiuitie.

From whence ſhe might behold that gentle Knight,

That for her ſake durſt hazard life in fight.

For this was all the comfort Hero had,

So many eyes ſhed teares to ſee her ſad.

Her hand-maide hope, perſwaded her ſome one,

Vndaunted Knight would be her Champion.

Yet ſince her Lord Leander was not nie,

She was reſolu’d eyther to liue or die;

But her Leander carefull of his loue,

Intending loues firme conſtancie to proue:

(Yf to his lot the honour did befall,)

Withdrew himſelfe into the Pallaice hall,

Where he was armed to his ſoules content,

And priuily conducted to a tent,

From whence he iſſu’d foorth at trumpets ſound,

Who at the firſt encounter, on the ground,

Forced the mazed Duke ſore panting lie,

Drown’d in the ryuer of ſad extacie.

At length reuiuing, he doth mount againe,

Whome young Leander in ſhort time had ſlaine.

The Duke quite dead, this all vnknowne young Knight,

Was foorthwith made the heire of Seſtos right.

The Princeſſe Hero ſet at libertie,

Kept by the late dead Duke in miſerie:

Whoſe conſtancie Leander gan to proue,

And now anew begins to court his loue.

To walke on ground where danger is vnſeene,

Doth make men doubt, where they haue neuer been.

As blind men feare what footing they ſhall finde:

So doth the wiſe miſtruſt the ſtraungers minde.

I ſtrange to you, and you vnknowen to me,

Yet may not loue twixt vs two grafted bee?

What I haue done, for Hero’s loue was done,

Say then you loue, and end as I begun.

I hazard life, to free thy beauties faire,

From Tyrants force and helliſh ſoule diſpaire:

Then ſacred Faire ballance my good deſart,

Inrich my ſoule with thy affecting hart.

Hero repli’d: (to rue on all falſe teares,

And forged tales, wherein craft oft appeares,

To truſt each fained face, and forcing charme,

Betrayes the ſimple ſoule that thinks no harme.)

(Not euery teare doth argue inward paine,

Not euery ſigh warrants, men doe not faine,

Not euery ſmoke doth proue a preſent fier,

Not all that gliſters, goulden ſoules deſire,

Not euery word is drawen out of the deepe,

For oft men ſmile, when they doe ſeeme to weepe:

Oft malice makes the minde to powre forth brine,

And enuie leakes the conduits of the eyne.

Craft oft doth cauſe men make a ſeeming ſhowe,

Of heauie woes where griefe did neuer growe.

Then blame not thoſe that wiſelie can beware,

To ſhun diſſimulations dreadfull ſnare.

Blame not the ſtopped eares gainſt Syrens ſonge,

Blame not the minde not mou’d with falſhood tonge.)

But reſt content and ſatiſfied with this,

Whilſt true Leander liues, true Hero’s his.

And thy Leander liues ſweete ſoule ſayde he,

Prayſing thy all admired chaſtitie.

Though thus diſguiſ’d, I am that baniſht Knight,

That for affecting thee was put to flight.

Hero, I am Leander thy true phere,

As true to thee, as life to me is deere.

When Hero all amazed gan reuiue,

And ſhe that then ſeem’d dead, was now aliue:

With kinde imbracements kiſſing at each ſtraine,

She welcoms him, and kiſſes him againe.

By thee, my ioyes haue ſhaken of diſpaire,

All ſtormes be paſt, and weather waxeth faire,

By thy returne Hero receaues more Ioye,

Then Paris did when Hellen was in Troy.

By thee my heauy doubts and thoughts are fled,

And now my wits with pleaſant thoughts are fed.

Feed ſacred Sainct on Nectar all diuine,

While theſe my eyes (quoth he) gaze on thy eyne.

And euer after may theſe eyes beware,

That they on ſtrangers beautie neuer ſtare:

(My wits I charme henceforth they take ſuch heede,

They frame no toyes, my fancies new to feede.

Deafe be my eares to heare another voice,

To force me ſmile, or make my ſoule reioyce,

Lame be my feete when they preſume to moue,

To force Leander ſeeke another loue.)

And when thy faire (ſweet faire) I gin diſgrace,

Heauen to my ſoule afford no reſting place.

What he to her, ſhe vow’d the like to him,

(All ſorrowes fled) their ioyes anew begin.

Full many yeares thoſe louers liu’d in fame,

That all the world did much admire the ſame.

Their liues ſpent date, and vnreſiſted death,

At hand to ſet a period to their breath,

They were tranſform’d by all diuine decrees,

Into the forme, and ſhape of two Pine trees.

Whoſe Natures ſuch, the Fæmale pine will die,

Vnles the Male be euer planted by:

A map for all ſucceeding times to come,

To view true-loue, which in their loues begun.

FINIS.

Qualis vita, finis ita.