Hero and Leander by Christopher Marloe

Hero and Leander. By Chriſtopher Marloe. London, Printed by Adam Iſlip, for Edward Blunt. 1598.

To the Right Worſhipfull, Sir Thomas Walſingham, Knight.

Sir, wee thinke not our ſelues diſcharged of the dutie wee owe to our friend, when wee haue brought the breathleße bodie to the earth: for albeit the eye there taketh his euer farwell of that beloued obiect, yet the impreßion of the man, that hath beene deare vnto vs, liuing an after life in our memory, there putteth vs in mind of farther obſequies due vnto the deceaſed. And namely of the performance of what ſoeuer we may iudge ſhal make to his liuing credit, and to the effecting of his determinations preuented by the ſtroke of death. By theſe meditations (as by an intellectuall will) I ſuppoſe of my ſelfe executor to the vnhappily deceaſed author of this Poem, vpon whom knowing that in his life time you bestowed many kind fauors, entertaining the parts of reckoning and woorth which you found in him, with good countenance and liberall affection: I cannot but ſee ſo far into the will of him dead, that whatſoeuer iſſue of his brain ſhould chance to come abroad, that the firſt breath it ſhould take might be the gentle aire of your liking: for ſince his ſelfe had ben accustomed thervnto, it would prooue more agreeable and thriuing to his right children, than any other foſter countenance what ſoeuer. At this time ſeeing that this vnfiniſhed Tragedy happens vnder my hands to be imprinted, of a double duty, the one to your ſelfe, the other to the deceaſed, I preſent the ſame to your moſt fauourable allowance, offring my vtmoſt ſelfe now and euer to bee readie, At your Worſhips diſpoſing:

Edward Blunt.

Hero and Leander.

On Hellespont guiltie of True-loues blood,
In view and oppoſit two citties ſtood,
Seaborders, diſioin’d by Neptunes might:
The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight.
At Sestos, Hero dwelt; Hero the faire,
Whom young Apollo courted for her haire,
And offred as a dower his burning throne,
Where ſhe ſhould ſit for men to gaze vpon.
The outſide of her garments were of lawne,
The lining, purple ſilke, with guilt ſtarres drawne,
Her wide ſleeues greene, and bordered with a groue,
Where Venus in her naked glory ſtroue,
To pleaſe the careleſſe and diſdainfull eies,
Of proud Adonis that before her lies.
Her kirtle blew, whereon was many a ſtaine,
Made with the blood of wretched Louers ſlaine.
Vpon her head ſhe ware a myrtle wreath,
From whence her vaile reacht to the ground beneath.
Her vaile was artificiall flowers and leaues,
Whoſe workmanſhip both man and beaſt deceaues.
Many would praiſe the ſweet ſmell as ſhe paſt,
When t’was the odour which her breath foorth caſt.
And there for honie, bees haue ſought in vaine,
And beat from thence, haue lighted there againe.
About her necke hung chaines of peble ſtone,
Which lightned by her necke, like Diamonds ſhone.
She ware no gloues, for neither ſunne nor wind
Would burne or parch her hands, but to her mind,
Or warme or coole them, for they tooke delite
To play vpon thoſe hands, they were ſo white.
Buskins of ſhels all ſiluered, vſed ſhe,
And brancht with bluſhing corall to the knee;
Where ſparrowes pearcht, of hollow pearle and gold,
Such as the world would woonder to behold:
Thoſe with ſweet water oft her handmaid fils,
Which as ſhee went would cherupe through the bils.
Some ſay, for her the faireſt Cupid pyn’d,
And looking in her face, was ſtrooken blind.
But this is true, ſo like was one the other,
As he imagyn’d Hero was his mother.
And oftentimes into her boſome flew,
About her naked necke his bare armes threw.
And laid his childiſh head vpon her breſt,
And with ſtill panting rockt, there tooke his reſt.
So louely faire was Hero, Venus Nun,
As nature wept, thinking ſhe was vndone;
Becauſe ſhe tooke more from her than ſhe left,
And of ſuch wondrous beautie her bereft:
Therefore in ſigne her treaſure ſuffred wracke,
Since Heroes time, hath halfe the world beene blacke.
Amorous Leander, beautifull and yoong,
(Whoſe tragedie diuine Muſæus ſoong)
Dwelt at Abidus, ſince him, dwelt there none,
For whom ſucceeding times make greater mone.
His dangling treſſes that were neuer ſhorne,
Had they beene cut, and vnto Colchos borne,
Would haue allu’rd the vent’rous youth of Greece,
To hazard more, than for the golden Fleece.
Faire Cinthia wiſht, his armes might be her ſpheare,
Greefe makes her pale, becauſe ſhe mooues not there.
His bodie was as ſtraight as Circes wand,
Ioue might haue ſipt out Nectar from his hand.
Euen as delicious meat is to the taſt,
So was his necke in touching, and ſurpaſt
The white of Pelops ſhoulder, I could tell ye,
How ſmooth his breſt was, & how white his bellie,
And whoſe immortall fingars did imprint,
That heauenly path, with many a curious dint,
That runs along his backe, but my rude pen,
Can hardly blazon foorth the loues of men.
Much leſſe of powerfull gods, let it ſuffiſe,
That my ſlacke muſe, ſings of Leanders eies.
Thoſe orient cheekes and lippes, exceeding his
That leapt into the water for a kis
Of his owne ſhadow, and deſpiſing many,
Died ere he could enioy the loue of any.
Had wilde Hippolitus, Leander ſeene,
Enamoured of his beautie had he beene,
His preſence made the rudeſt paiſant melt,
That in the vaſt vplandiſh countrie dwelt,
The barbarous Thratian ſoldier moou’d with nought,
Was moou’d with him, and for his fauour ſought.
Some ſwore he was a maid in mans attire,
For in his lookes were all that men deſire,
A pleaſant ſmiling cheeke, a ſpeaking eye,
A brow for loue to banquet roiallye,
And ſuch as knew he was a man would ſay,
Leander, thou art made for amorous play:
Why art thou not in loue, and lou’d of all?
Though thou be faire, yet be not thine owne thrall.
The men of wealthie Sestos, euerie yeare,
(For his ſake whom their goddeſſe held ſo deare,
Roſe-cheekt Adonis) kept a ſolemne feaſt,
Thither reſorted many a wandring gueſt,
To meet their loues; ſuch as had none at all,
Came louers home, from this great feſtiuall.
For euerie ſtreet like to a Firmament
Gliſtered with breathing ſtars, who where they went,
Frighted the melancholie earth, which deem’d,
Eternall heauen to burne, for ſo it ſeem’d,
As if another Phaeton had got
The guidance of the ſunnes rich chariot.
But far aboue, the louelieſt Hero ſhin’d,
And ſtole away th’inchaunted gazers mind,
For like Sea-nimphs inueigling harmony,
So was her beautie to the ſtanders by.
Not that night-wandring pale and watrie ſtarre,
(When yawning dragons draw her thirling carre,
From Latmus mount vp to the glomie ſkie,
Where crown’d with blazing light and maieſtie,
She proudly ſits) more ouer-rules the flood,
Than ſhe the hearts of thoſe that neere her ſtood.
Euen as, when gawdie Nymphs purſue the chace,
Wretched Ixions ſhaggie footed race,
Incenſt with ſauage heat, gallop amaine,
From ſteepe Pine-bearing mountains to the plaine:
So ran the people foorth to gaze vpon her,
And all that view’d her, were enamour’d on her.
And as in furie of a dreadfull fight,
Their fellowes being ſlaine or put to flight,
Poore ſoldiers ſtãd with fear of death dead ſtrooken,
So at her preſence all ſurpris’d and tooken,
Await the ſentence of her ſcornefull eies:
He whom ſhe fauours liues, the other dies.
There might you ſee one ſigh, another rage,
And ſome (their violent paſsions to aſſwage)
Compile ſharpe ſatyrs, but alas too late,
For faithfull loue will neuer turne to hate.
And many ſeeing great princes were denied,
Pyn’d as they went, and thinking on her died.
On this feaſt day, O curſed day and hower,
Went Hero thorow Seſtos, from her tower
To Venus temple, were vnhappilye,
As after chaunc’d, they did each other ſpye,
So faire a church as this, had Venus none,
The wals were of diſcoloured Iaſper ſtone,
Wherein was Proteus carued, and o’rehead,
A liuelie vine of greene ſea agget ſpread;
Where by one hand, light headed Bacchus hoong,
And with the other, wine from grapes out wroong.
Of Chriſtall ſhining faire, the pauement was,
The towne of Seſtos, cal’d it Venus glaſſe,
There might you ſee the gods in ſundrie ſhapes,
Committing headdie ryots, inceſt, rapes:
For know, that vnderneath this radiant floure,
Was Danaes ſtatue in a brazen tower,
Ioue, ſlylie ſtealing from his ſiſters bed,
To dallie with Idalian Ganimed:
And for his loue Europa, bellowing loud,
And tumbling with the Rainbow in a cloud,
Blood-quaffing Mars, heauing the yron net,
Which limping Vulcan and his Cyclops ſet:
Loue kindling fire, to burne ſuch townes as Troy,
Syluanus weeping for the louely boy
That now is turn’d into a Cypres tree,
Vnder whoſe ſhade the Wood-gods loue to bee.
And in the midſt a ſiluer altar ſtood,
There Hero ſacrificing turtles blood,
Vaild to the ground, vailing her eie-lids cloſe,
And modeſtly they opened as ſhe roſe:
Thence flew Loues arrow with the golden head,
And thus Leander was enamoured.
Stone ſtill he ſtood, and euermore he gazed,
Till with the fire that from his count’nance blazed,
Relenting Heroes gentle heart was ſtrooke,
Such force and vertue hath an amorous looke.
It lies not in our power to loue, or hate,
For will in vs is ouer-rul’d by fate.
When two are ſtript long ere the courſe begin,
We wiſh that one ſhould looſe, the other win.
And one eſpecially doe we affect,
Of two gold Ingots like in each reſpect,
The reaſon no man knowes, let it ſuffiſe,
What we behold is cenſur’d by our eies.
Where both deliberat, the loue is ſlight,
Who euer lou’d that lou’d not at firſt ſight?
He kneel’d, but vnto her devoutly praid;
Chaſt Hero to her ſelfe thus ſoftly ſaid:
Were I the ſaint he worſhips, I would heare him,
And as ſhee ſpake thoſe words, came ſomewhat nere him.
He ſtarted vp, ſhe bluſht as one aſham’d;
Wherewith Leander much more was inflam’d.
He toucht her hand, in touching it ſhe trembled,
Loue deepely grounded, hardly is diſſembled,
Theſe louers parled by the touch of hands,
True loue is mute, and oft amazed ſtands,
Thus¹ while dum ſigns their yeelding harts entangled,
The aire with ſparkes of liuing fire was ſpangled,

And night deepe drencht in myſtie Acheron,
Heau’d vp her head, and halfe the world vpon,
Breath’d darkeneſſe forth (darke night is Cupids day)
And now begins Leander to diſplay
Loues holy fire, with words, with ſighs and teares,
Which like ſweet muſicke entred Heroes eares,
And yet at euerie word ſhee turn’d aſide,
And alwaies cut him off as he replide,
At laſt, like to a bold ſharpe Sophiſter,
With chearefull hope thus he accoſted her.
Faire creature, let me ſpeake without offence,
I would my rude words had the influence,
To lead thy thoughts, as thy faire lookes doe mine,
Then ſhouldſt thou bee his priſoner who is thine.
Be not vnkind and faire, miſhapen ſtuffe
Are of behauior boiſterous and ruffe.
O ſhun me not, but heare me ere you goe,
God knowes I cannot force loue, as you doe.
My words ſhall be as ſpotleſſe as my youth,
Full of ſimplicitie and naked truth.
This ſacrifice (whoſe ſweet perfume deſcending,
From Venus altar to your footſteps bending)
Doth teſtifie that you exceed her farre,
To whom you offer, and whoſe Nunne you are,
Why ſhould you worſhip her, her you ſurpaſſe,
As much as ſparkling Diamonds flaring glaſſe.
A Diamond ſet in lead his worth retaines,
A heauenly Nimph, belov’d of humane ſwaines,
Receiues no blemiſh, but oft-times more grace,
Which makes me hope, although I am but baſe,
Baſe in reſpect of thee, diuine and pure,
Dutifull ſeruice may thy loue procure,
And I in dutie will excell all other,
As thou in beautie doeſt exceed loues mother.
Nor heauen, nor thou, were made to gaze vpon,
As heauen preſerues all things, ſo ſaue thou one.
A ſtately builded ſhip, well rig’d and tall,
The Ocean maketh more maieſticall:
Why voweſt thou then to liue in Sestos here,
Who on Loues ſeas more glorious wouldſt appeare?
Like vntun’d golden ſtrings all women are,
Which long time lie vntoucht, will harſhly iarre.
Veſſels of Braſſe oft handled, brightly ſhine,
What difference betwixt the richeſt mine
And baſeſt mold, but vſe? for both not vs’de,
Are of like worth. Then treaſure is abus’de,
When miſers keepe it; being put to lone,
In time it will returne vs two for one.
Rich robes, themſelues and others do adorne,
Neither themſelues nor others, if not worne.
Who builds a pallace and rams vp the gate,
Shall ſee it ruinous and deſolate.
Ah ſimple Hero, learne thy ſelfe to cheriſh,
Lone women like to emptie houſes periſh.
Leſſe ſinnes the poore rich man that ſtarues himſelfe,
In heaping vp a maſſe of droſſie pelfe,
Than ſuch as you: his golden earth remains,
Which after his diſceaſſe, ſome other gains.
But this faire iem, ſweet, in the loſſe alone,
When you fleet hence, can be bequeath’d to none.
Or if it could, downe from th’enameld skie,
All heauen would come to claime this legacie,
And with inteſtine broiles the world deſtroy,
And quite confound natures ſweet harmony.
Well therefore by the gods decreed it is,
We humane creatures ſhould enioy that bliſſe.
One is no numbers, mayds are nothing then,
Without the ſweet ſocietie of men.
Wilt thou liue ſingle ſtill? one ſhalt thou bee,
Though neuer-ſingling Hymen couple thee.
Wild ſauages, that drinke of running ſprings,
Thinke water farre excels all earthly things:
But they that dayly taſt neat wine, deſpiſe it.
Virginitie, albeit ſome highly priſe it,
Compar’d with marriage, had you tried them both,
Differs as much, as wine and water doth.
Baſe boullion for the ſtampes ſake we allow,
Euen ſo for mens impreſsion do we you.
By which alone, our reuerend fathers ſay,
Women receaue perfection euerie way.
This idoll which you terme Virginitie,
Is neither eſſence ſubiect to the eie,
No, nor to any one exterior ſence,
Nor hath it any place of reſidence,
Nor is’t of earth or mold celeſtiall,
Or capable of any forme at all.
Of that which hath no being, doe not boaſt,
Things that are not at all, are neuer loſt.
Men fooliſhly doe call it vertuous;
What vertue is it, that is borne with vs?
Much leſſe can honour bee aſcrib’d thereto,
Honour is purchac’d by the deedes wee do.
Beleeue me, Hero, honour is not wone,
Vntill ſome honourable deed be done.
Seeke you for chaſtitie, immortall fame,
And know that ſome haue wrong’d Dianas name?
Whoſe name is it, if ſhe be falſe or not,
So ſhe be faire, but ſome vile toongs will blot?
But you are faire (aye me) ſo wondrous faire,
So yoong, ſo gentle, and ſo debonaire,
As Greece will thinke, if thus you liue alone,
Some one or other keepes you as his owne.
Then Hero hate me not, nor from me flie,
To follow ſwiftly blaſting infamie.
Perhaps thy ſacred Prieſthood makes thee loath,
Tell me, to whom mad’ſt thou that heedleſſe oath?
To Venus, anſwered ſhee, and as ſhee ſpake,
Foorth from thoſe two tranſlucent ceſternes brake,
A ſtreame of liquid pearle, which downe her face
Made milk-white paths, wheron the gods might trace
To Ioues high court. Hee thus replide: The rites
In which Loues beauteous Empreſſe moſt delites,
Are banquets, Dorick muſicke, midnight reuell,
Plaies, maskes, and all that ſtern age counteth euill.
Thee as a holy Idiot doth ſhe ſcorne,
For thou in vowing chaſtitie, hath ſworne
To rob her name and honour, and thereby
Commit’ſt a ſinne far worſe than periurie.
Euen ſacrilege againſt her Dietie,
Through regular and formall puritie.
To expiat which ſinne, kiſſe and ſhake hands,
Such ſacrifice as this, Venus demands.
Thereat ſhe ſmild, and did denie him ſo,
As put thereby, yet might he hope for mo.
Which makes him quickly re-enforce his ſpeech,
And her in humble manner thus beſeech.
Though neither gods nor men may thee deſerue,
Yet for her ſake whom you haue vow’d to ſerue,
Abandon fruitleſſe cold Virginitie,
The gentle queene of Loues ſole enemie.
Then ſhall you moſt reſemble Venus Nun,
When Venus ſweet rites are perform’d and done,
Flint-breſted Pallas ioies in ſingle life,
But Pallas and your miſtreſſe are at ſtrife.
Loue Hero, then, and be not tirannous,
But heale the heart, that thou haſt wounded thus,
Nor ſtaine thy youthfull years with auarice,
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 vs’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 iarre.
Thus hauing ſwallow’d Cupids golden hooke,
The more ſhe ſtriv’d, the deeper was ſhe ſtrooke.
Yet euilly faining anger, ſtroue ſhe ſtill,
And would be thought to graunt againſt her will.
So hauing paus’d a while, at laſt ſhe ſaid:
Who taught thee Rhethoricke to deceiue a maid?
Aye me, ſuch words as theſe ſhould I abhor,
And yet I like them for the Orator.
With that Leander ſtoopt, to haue 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.
Vpon a rocke, and vnderneath a hill,
Far from the towne (where all is whiſt and ſtill,
Saue 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 vs.)
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 vnawares (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, moouing ſeuerall waies,
At one ſelfe inſtant, the poore ſoule aſſaies,
Louing, not to loue at all, and euerie part,
Stroue to reſiſt the motions of her hart.
And hands ſo pure, ſo innocent, nay ſuch,
As might haue made heauen ſtoope to haue a touch,
Did ſhe vphold to Venus, and againe
Vow’d ſpotleſſe chaſtitie, but all in vaine,
Cupid bears downe her praiers with his wings,
Her vowes aboue 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 Loue 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 enioy ech other, and be bleſt.
But with a ghaſtly dreadfull countenaunce,
Threatning a thouſand deaths at euerie glaunce,
They anſwered Loue, nor would vouchſafe ſo much
As one poore word, their hate to him was ſuch.
Harken a while, and I will tell you why:
Heauens winged herrald, Ioue-borne Mercury,
The ſelfe-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 vntaught to gloſe.
Yet proud 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 ſiluer tincture of her cheekes, that drew
The loue of euerie ſwaine: On her, this god
Enamoured was, and with his ſnakie rod,
Did charme her nimble feet, and made her ſtay,
The while vpon 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 louer,
Boaſting his parentage, would needs diſcouer
The way to new Eliſium: but ſhe,
Whoſe only dower was her chaſtitie,
Hauing ſtriu’ne in vaine, was now about to crie,
And craue the helpe of ſheap-heards that were nie.
Herewith he ſtayd his furie, and began
To giue her leaue to riſe, away ſhe ran,
After went Mercurie, who vs’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 louelineſſe and beautie had
As could prouoke his liking, yet was mute,
And neither would denie, nor graunt his ſute.
Still vowd he loue, ſhe wanting no excuſe
To feed him with delaies, as women vſe:
Or thirſting after immortalitie,
All women are ambitious naturallie,
Impos’d vpon her louer 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, Ioues cup fil’d,)
And gaue it to his ſimple ruſtike loue,
Which being knowne (as what is hid from Ioue)
He inly ſtorm’d, and waxt more furious,
Than for the fire filcht by Prometheus;
And thruſts him down frõ heauen, he wandring here,
In mournfull tearmes, with ſad and heauie cheare
Complaind to Cupid, Cupid for his ſake,
To be reueng’d on Ioue, did vndertake,
And thoſe on whom heauen, earth, and hell relies,
I mean the Adamantine Deſtinies,
He wounds with loue, and forſt them equallie,
To dote vpon 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 vp-wayd:
Theſe he regarded not, but did intreat,
That Ioue, vſurper of his fathers ſeat,
Might preſently be baniſht into hell,
And aged Saturne in Olympus dwell.
They granted wat he crau’d, and once againe,
Saturne and Ops, began their golden raigne.
Murder, rape, warre, luſt and trecherie,
Were with Ioue clos’d in Stigian Empire.
But long this bleſſed time continued not,
As ſoone as he his wiſhed purpoſe got;
He reckleſſe of his promiſe, did deſpiſe
The loue of th’euerlaſting Deſtinies.
They ſeeing it, both Loue and him abhor’d,
And Iupiter vnto his place reſtor’d.
And but that Learning, in deſpight of Fate,
Will mount aloft, and enter heauen gate,
And to the ſeat of Ioue it ſelfe aduance,
Hermes had ſlept in hell with ignoraunce.
Yet as a puniſhment they added this,
That he and Pouertie ſhould alwaies kis.
And to this day is euerie ſcholler poore,
Groſſe gold, from them runs headlong to the boore.
Likewiſe the angrie ſiſters thus deluded,
To venge themſelues on Hermes, haue 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 ioy,
But be ſurpris’d with euery gariſh toy.
And ſtill inrich the loftie ſeruile clowne,
Who with incroching guile, keepes learning downe.
Then muſe not, Cupids ſute no better ſped,
Seeing in their loues, the Fates were iniured.
By this, ſad Hero, with loue vnacquainted,
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 haue 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 nouice, knew not what ſhe meant,
But ſtayd, and after her a letter ſent.
Which ioyfull 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 louers had, at their firſt meeting.
He askt, ſhe gaue, and nothing was denied,
Both to each other quickly were affied.
Looke how their hands, ſo were their hearts vnited,
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 heauen, 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 been wrong’d,
By being poſſeſt of him for whom ſhe long’d:
I, and ſhee wiſht, albeit not from her hart,
That he would leaue her turret and depart.
The mirthfull God of amorous pleaſure ſmil’d,
To ſee how he this captiue Nymph beguil’d.
For hitherto hee did but fan the fire,
And kept it downe that it might mount the hier.
Now waxt ſhe iealous, leaſt his loue abated,
Fearing, her owne thoughts made her to be hated.
Therefore vnto him haſtily ſhe goes,
And like light Salmacis, her body throes
Vpon his boſome, where with yeelding eyes,
She offers vp her ſelfe a ſacrifice,
To ſlake his anger, if he were diſpleas’d,
O what god would not therewith be appeas’d?
Like Æſops cocke, this iewell he enioyed,
And as a brother with his ſiſter toyed,
Suppoſing nothing elſe was to be done,
Now he her fauour and good will had wone.
But know you not that creatures wanting ſence,
By nature haue a mutuall appetence,
And wanting organs to aduaunce a ſtep,
Mou’d by Loues force, vnto ech other lep?
Much more in ſubiects hauing intellect,
Some hidden influence breeds like effect.
Albeit Leander rude in loue, and raw,
Long dallying with Hero, nothing ſaw
That might delight him more, yet he ſuſpected
Some amorous rites or other were neglected.
Therefore vnto his bodie, hirs he clung,
She, fearing on the ruſhes to be flung,
Striu’d with redoubled ſtrength, the more ſhe ſtrued,
The more a gentle pleaſing heat reuiued,
Which taught him all that elder louers know,
And now the ſame gan ſo to ſcorch and glow,
As in plaine termes (yet cunningly) he crau’d it,
Loue alwaies makes thoſe eloquent that haue it.
Shee, with a kind of graunting, put him by it,
And euer as he thought himſelfe moſt nigh it,
Like to the tree of Tantalus ſhe fled,
And ſeeming lauiſh, ſau’de her maydenhead.
Ne’re king more ſought to keepe his diademe,
Than Hero this ineſtimable gemme.
Aboue our life we loue 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 maruell then, though Hero would not yeeld
So ſoone to part from that ſhe deerely held.
Iewels being loſt are found againe, this neuer,
T’is loſt but once, and once loſt, loſt for euer.
Now had the morne eſpy’de her louers 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 leaue, and kiſt,
Long was he taking leaue, and loath to go,
And kiſt againe, as louers vſe 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 louers, 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 reueal’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 loue through Seſtos to bee knowne,
And thence vnto 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 haue chac’d away the ſwelling maine,
That him from her vniuſtly did detaine.
Like as the ſunne in a Dyameter,
Fires and inflames obiects remooued farre,
And heateth kindly, ſhining lat’rally;
So beautie, ſweetly quickens when t’is ny,
But being ſeparated and remooued,
Burnes where it cheriſht, murders where it loued.
Therefore euen as an Index to a booke,
So to his mind was yoong Leanders looke.
O none but gods haue power their loue to hide,
Affection by the count’nance is deſcride.
The light of hidden fire it ſelfe diſcouers,
And loue that is conceal’d, betraies poore louers.
His ſecret flame apparently 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 loue reſiſted once, growes paſsionate,
And nothing more than counſaile, louers hate.
For as a hote prowd horſe highly diſdaines,
To haue his head control’d, but breakes the raines,
Spits foorth the ringled bit, and with his houes,
Checkes the ſubmiſsiue ground: ſo hee that loues,
The more he is reſtrain’d, the worſe 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 hauing 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 yu’rie skin,
And crying, Loue I come, leapt liuely in.
Whereat the ſaphir viſag’d god grew prowd,
And made his capring Triton ſound alowd,
Imagining, that Ganimed diſpleas’d,
Had left the heauens, therefore on him hee ſeaz’d.
Leander ſtriu’d, the waues about him wound,
And puld him to the bottome, where the ground
Was ſtrewd with pearle, and in low corrall groues,
Sweet ſinging Meremaids, ſported with their loues
On heapes of heauie gold, and tooke great pleaſure,
To ſpurne in careleſſe ſort, the ſhipwracke treaſure.
For here the ſtately azure pallace ſtood,
Where kingly Neptune and his traine abode,
The luſtie god imbraſt him, cald him loue,
And ſwore he neuer ſhould return to Ioue.
But when he knew it was not Ganimed,
For vnderwater he was almoſt dead,
He heau’d him vp, and looking on his face,
Beat downe the bold waues with his triple mace,
Which mounted vp, intending to haue kiſt him,
And fell in drops like teares, becauſe they miſt him.
Leander being vp, began to ſwim,
And looking backe, ſaw Neptune follow him.
Whereat agaſt, the poore ſoule gan to crie,
O let mee viſite Hero ere I die.
The god put Helles bracelet on his arme,
And ſwore the ſea ſhould neuer doe him harme.
He clapt his plumpe cheekes, with his treſſes playd,
And ſmiling wantonly, his loue bewrayd.
He watcht his armes, and as they opend wide,
At euery ſtroke, betwixt them would he ſlide,
And ſteale a kiſſe, and then run out and daunce,
And as he turn, caſt many a luſtfull glaunce,
And threw him gawdie toies to pleaſe his eie,
And diue into the water, and there prie
Vpon his breſt, his thighs, and euerie lim,
And vp againe, and cloſe beſide him ſwim.
And talke of loue: Leander made replie,
You are deceau’d, I am no woman I,
Thereat ſmilde Neptune, and then told a tale,
How that a ſhepheard ſitting in a vale,
Playd with a boy ſo faire and kind,
As for his loue, both earth and heauen pyn’d;
That of the cooling riuer durſt not drinke,
Leaſt water-nymphs ſhould pull him from the brinke.
And when hee ſported in the fragrant lawnes,
Gote-footed Satyrs, and vp-ſtaring Fawnes,
Would ſteale him thence. Ere halfe this tale was done,
Aye me, Leander cryde, th’enamoured ſunne,
Deſcends vpon my radiant Heroes tower.
O that theſe tardie armes of mine were wings,
And as he ſpake, vpon the waues he ſprings.
Neptune was angrie that hee gaue no eare,
And in his heart reuenging malice bare:
He flung at him his mace, but as it went,
He cald it in, for loue made him repent.
The mace returning backe, his owne hand hit,
As meaning to be veng’d for darting it.
When this freſh bleeding wound Leander viewd,
His colour went and came, as if he rewd
The greefe which Neptune felt. In gentle breſts,
Relenting thoughts, remorſe and pittie reſts.
And who haue hard harts, and obdurat minds,
But vicious, harebraind, and illit’rat hinds?
The god ſeeing him with pittie to be moued,
Thereon concluded that he was beloued.
(Loue is too full of faith, too credulous,
With follie and falſe hope deluding vs.)
Wherefore Leanders fancie to ſurprize,
To the rich Ocean for gifts he flies.
’Tis wiſedome to giue much, a gift preuailes,
When deepe perſwading Oratorie failes.
By this Leander being nere the land,
Caſt downe his wearie feet, and felt the ſand.
Breathleſſe albeit he were, he reſted not,
Till to the ſolitarie tower he got.
And knockt and cald, at which celeſtiall noiſe,
The longing heart of Hero much more ioies
Then nymphs & ſheapheards, when the timbrell rings,
Or crooked Dolphin when the ſailer ſings;
She ſtayd not for her robes, but ſtraight aroſe,
And drunke with gladneſſe, to the dore ſhe goes.
Where ſeeing a naked man, ſhe ſcriecht for feare,
Such ſights as this, to tender maids are rare.
And ran into the darke her ſelfe to hide,
Rich iewels in the darke are ſooneſt ſpide.
Vnto her was he led, or rather drawne,
By thoſe white limmes, which ſparckled through the lawne.
The neerer that he came, the more ſhe fled,
And ſeeking refuge, ſlipt into her bed.
Whereon Leander ſitting, thus began,
Through numming cold, all feeble, faint and wan:
If not for loue, yet loue for pittie ſake,
Me in thy bed and maiden boſom take,
At leaſt vouchſafe theſe aremes ſome little roome,
Who hoping to imbrace thee, cherely ſwome.
This head was beat with manie a churliſh billow,
And therefore let it reſt vpon thy pillow.
Herewith afrighted Hero ſhrunke away,
And in her luke-warme place Leander lay.
Whoſe liuely heat like fire from heauen fet,
Would animate groſſe clay, and higher ſet
The drooping thoughts of baſe declining ſoules,
Then drerie Mars, carowſing Nectar boules.
His hands he caſt vpon her like a ſnare,
She ouercome with ſhame and ſallow feare,
Like chaſt Diana, when Acteon ſpyde her,
Being ſodainly betraide, dyu’d downe to hide her.
And as her ſiluer body downeward went,
With both her hands ſhe made the bed a tent,
And in her owne mind thought her ſelfe ſecure,
O’recaſt with dim and darkſome couerture.
And now ſhe lets him whiſper in her eare,
Flatter, intreat, promiſe, proteſt and ſweare,
Yet euer as he greedily aſſayd
To touch thoſe dainties, ſhe the Harpey playd,
And euery lim did as a ſoldier ſtout,
Defend the fort, and keep the foe-man out.
For though the riſing yu’rie mount he ſcal’d,
Which is with azure circling lines empal’d,
Much like a globe, (a globe may I tearme this,
By which loue ſailes to regions full of blis,)
Yet there with Syſiphus he toyld in vaine,
Till gentle parlie did the truce obtaine.
She trembling ſtroue, this ſtrife of hers (like that
Which made the world) another world begat,
Of vnknowne ioy. Treaſon was in her thought,
And cunningly to yeeld her ſelfe ſhe ſought.
Seeming not woon, yet woon ſhe was at length,
In ſuch warres women vſe but halfe their ſtrength.
Leander now like Theban Hercules,
Entred the orchard of Th’esperides.
Whoſe fruit none rightly can deſcribe, but hee
That puls or ſhakes it from the golden tree:
Wherein Leander on her quiuering breſt,
Breathleſſe ſpoke ſome thing, and ſigh’d out the reſt;
Which ſo preuail’d, as he with ſmall ado,
Incloſ’d her in his armes and kiſt her to.
And euerie kiſſe to her was as a charme,
And to Leander as a freſh alarme.
So that the truce was broke, and ſhe alas,
(Poore ſillie maiden) at his mercie was.
Loue is not ful of pittie (as men ſay)
But deaffe and cruell, where he meanes to pray.
Euen as a bird, which in our hands we wring,
Foorth plungeth, and oft flutters with her wing.
And now ſhe wiſht this night were neuer done,
And ſigh’d to thinke vpon th’approching ſunne,
For much it greeu’d her that the bright day light,
Should know the pleaſure of this bleſſed night.
And then like Mars and Ericine diſplayd,
Both in each others armes chaind as they layd.
Againe ſhe knew not how to frame her looke,
Or ſpeake to him who in a moment tooke,
That which ſo long charily ſhe kept,
And faine by ſtealth away ſhe would haue crept,
And to ſome corner ſecretly haue gone,
Leauing Leander in the bed alone.
But as her naked feet were whipping out,
He on the ſuddaine cling’d her ſo about,
That Meremaid-like vnto the floore ſhe ſlid,
One halfe appear’d the other halfe was hid.
Thus neere the bed ſhe bluſhing ſtood vpright,
And from her countenance behold ye might,
A kind of twilight breake, which through the heare,
As from an orient cloud, glymſe her and there.
And round about the chamber this falſe morne,
Brought foorth the day before the day was borne.
So Heroes ruddie cheeke, Hero betrayd,
And her all naked to his ſight diſplayd.
Whence his admiring eyes more pleaſure tooke,
Than Dis, on heapes of gold fixing his looke.
By this Apollos golden harpe began,
To ſound foorth muſicke to the Ocean,
Which watchfull Hesperus no ſooner heard,
But he the day bright-bearing Car prepar’d.
And ran before, as Harbenger of light,
And with his ſtaring beames mockt ougly night,
Till ſhe o’recome with anguiſh, ſhame, and rage,
Dang’d downe to hell her loathſome carriage.

Deſunt nonnulla.