7. JOVES and GANYMEDES
Presentation: Sodomy and the law, 1475-1640
Presentation: Ganymede and St. Sebastian in Renaissance Art
Readings:
God 1 & 2 Samuel [David and Jonathan]
B. Googe fr. The Zodiake of Life (1565)
C. Marlowe Prologue to Dido, Queen of Carthage (1594; ed. DWF 1999)
C. Marlowe "Hero and Leander" (1593; pub. 1598; ed. DWF 1999)
C. Marlowe "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love" (c. 1591; ed. DWF 1999)
B. Barnes from Parthenophe and Parthenope (1593); ed. DWF 1999)
R. Barnfield fr. The Affectionate Shepherd (1595; ed. DWF 1999)
W. Burton, trans. The Most Delectable and Pleasaunt History of Clitiphon and Leucippe. By Achilles Tatius. (1597 [STC 90]; ed. DWF 1999).
Anon. fr. The Jests of George Peele (1597; ed. DWF 1999)
R. Barnfield fr. Cynthia (1598; ed. DWF 1999)
W. Shakespeare fr. As You Like It (1599; pub. 1623; Project Gutenberg text, 1993)
L. Machin, "Apollo and Hyacinth" (1607; ed. DWF 1999)
J. Dowland fr. Lyrics from Lyric Airs (1612)
T. Ravenscroft "Of Enamoring" (1614; ed. DWF 1999)
T. Collins fr. The Teares of Love (1615; ed. DWF 1999)
T. Bancroft fr.Two Bookes of Epigrammes, and Epitaphs. (1639)
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[No Saving Private Jonathan: or, "Don't Tell, Don't Ask"]
1 Samuel 14. [note: In the Book of 1 Samuel, Jonathan is the son of Saul, king of the Hebrews. David becomes King after the death of Saul and Jonathan.]
1. Now it came to pass upon a day, that Jonathan the son of Saul said unto the young man that bare his armour, Come, and let us go over to the Philistines' garrison, that is on the other side. But he told not his father.... 6. And Jonathan said to the young man that bare his armour, Come, and let us go over unto the garrison of these uncircumcised: it may be that the LORD will work for us: for there is no restraint to the LORD to save by many or by few.
7. And his armourbearer said unto him, Do all that is in thine heart: turn thee; behold, I am with thee according to thy heart.
8. Then said Jonathan, Behold, we will pass over unto these men, and we will discover ourselves unto them. 9. If they say thus unto us, Tarry until we come to you; then we will stand still in our place, and will not go up unto them. 10. But if they say thus, Come up unto us; then we will go up: for the LORD hath delivered them into our hand: and this shall be a sign unto us.
11. And both of them discovered themselves unto the garrison of the Philistines: and the Philistines said, Behold, the Hebrews come forth out of the holes where they had hid themselves.
12. And the men of the garrison answered Jonathan and his armourbearer, and said, Come up to us, and we will shew you a thing. And Jonathan said unto his armourbearer, Come up after me: for the LORD hath delivered them into the hand of Israel. 13. And Jonathan climbed up upon his hands and upon his feet, and his armourbearer after him: and they fell before Jonathan; and his armourbearer slew after him. 14. And that first slaughter, which Jonathan and his armourbearer made, was about twenty men, within as it were an half acre of land, which a yoke of oxen might plow. 15. And there was trembling in the host, in the field, and among all the people: the garrison, and the spoilers, they also trembled, and the earth quaked: so it was a very great trembling.... 22. Likewise all the men of Israel which had hid themselves in mount Ephraim, when they heard that the Philistines fled, even they also followed hard after them in the battle. 23. So the LORD saved Israel that day: and the battle passed over unto Beth-aven.
24. And the men of Israel were distressed that day: for Saul had adjured the people, saying, Cursed be the man that eateth any food until evening, that I may be avenged on mine enemies. So none of the people tasted any food. 25. And all they of the land came to a wood; and there was honey upon the ground. 26. And when the people were come into the wood, behold, the honey dropped; but no man put his hand to his mouth: for the people feared the oath. 27. But Jonathan heard not when his father charged the people with the oath: wherefore he put forth the end of the rod that was in his hand, and dipped it in an honeycomb, and put his hand to his mouth; and his eyes were enlightened.
28. Then answered one of the people, and said, Thy father straitly charged the people with an oath, saying, Cursed be the man that eateth any food this day. And the people were faint.
29. Then said Jonathan, My father hath troubled the land: see, I pray you, how mine eyes have been enlightened, because I tasted a little of this honey. 30. How much more, if haply the people had eaten freely to day of the spoil of their enemies which they found? for had there not been now a much greater slaughter among the Philistines?
31. (They smote the Philistines that day from Michmash to Aijalon: and the people were very faint.)....
35. And Saul built an altar unto the LORD: the same was the first altar that he built unto the LORD. 36. And Saul said, Let us go down after the Philistines by night, and spoil them until the morning light, and let us not leave a man of them.
And they said, Do whatsoever seemeth good unto thee.
Then said the priest, Let us draw near hither unto God.
37. And Saul asked counsel of God, Shall I go down after the Philistines? wilt thou deliver them into the hand of Israel?
But he answered him not that day.
38. And Saul said, Draw ye near hither, all the chief of the people: and know and see wherein this sin hath been this day. 39. For, as the LORD liveth, which saveth Israel, though it be in Jonathan my son, he shall surely die. But there was not a man among all the people that answered him.
40. Then said he unto all Israel, Be ye on one side, and I and Jonathan my son will be on the other side.
And the people said unto Saul, Do what seemeth good unto thee.
41. Therefore Saul said unto the LORD God of Israel, Give a perfect lot. And Saul and Jonathan were taken: but the people escaped.
42. And Saul said, Cast lots between me and Jonathan my son. And Jonathan was taken.
43. Then Saul said to Jonathan, Tell me what thou hast done. And Jonathan told him, and said, I did but taste a little honey with the end of the rod that was in mine hand, and, lo, I must die.
44. And Saul answered, God do so and more also: for thou shalt surely die, Jonathan.
45. And the people said unto Saul, Shall Jonathan die, who hath wrought this great salvation in Israel? God forbid: as the LORD liveth, there shall not one hair of his head fall to the ground; for he hath wrought with God this day. So the people rescued Jonathan, that he died not.
46. Then Saul went up from following the Philistines: and the Philistines went to their own place.
1Sam 18.
1. And it came to pass, when he had made an end of speaking unto Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul. 2. And Saul took David that day, and would let him go no more home to his father's house.
3. Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved him as his own soul. 4. And Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that was upon him, and gave it to David, and his garments, even to his sword, and to his bow, and to his girdle.
5. And David went out whithersoever Saul sent him, and behaved himself wisely: and Saul set him over the men of war, and he was accepted in the sight of all the people, and also in the sight of Saul's servants.
6. And it came to pass as they came, when David was returned from the slaughter of the Philistine, that the women came out of all cities of Israel, singing and dancing, to meet king Saul, with tabrets, with joy, and with instruments of music. 7. And the women answered one another as they played, and said, Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands.
8. And Saul was very wroth, and the saying displeased him; and he said, They have ascribed unto David ten thousands, and to me they have ascribed but thousands: and what can he have more but the kingdom? 9. And Saul eyed David from that day and forward. 10. And it came to pass on the morrow, that the evil spirit from God came upon Saul, and he prophesied in the midst of the house: and David played with his hand, as at other times: and there was a javelin in Saul's hand. 11. And Saul cast the javelin; for he said, I will smite David even to the wall with it. And David avoided out of his presence twice.
12. And Saul was afraid of David, because the LORD was with him, and was departed from Saul. 13. Therefore Saul removed him from him, and made him his captain over a thousand; and he went out and came in before the people. 14. And David behaved himself wisely in all his ways; and the LORD was with him. 15. Wherefore when Saul saw that he behaved himself very wisely, he was afraid of him. . . .
1 Samuel, chap. 19.
1. And Saul spake to Jonathan his son, and to all his servants, that they should kill David. 2. But Jonathan Saul's son delighted much in David: and Jonathan told David, saying, Saul my father seeketh to kill thee: now therefore, I pray thee, take heed to thyself until the morning, and abide in a secret place, and hide thyself....
3. And I will go out and stand beside my father in the field where thou art, and I will commune with my father of thee; and what I see, that I will tell thee. 4. And Jonathan spake good of David unto Saul his father, and said unto him, Let not the king sin against his servant, against David; because he hath not sinned against thee, and because his works have been to theeward very good: 5. For he did put his life in his hand, and slew the Philistine, and the LORD wrought a great salvation for all Israel: thou sawest it, and didst rejoice: wherefore then wilt thou sin against innocent blood, to slay David without a cause?
6. And Saul hearkened unto the voice of Jonathan: and Saul sware, As the LORD liveth, he shall not be slain. 7. And Jonathan called David, and Jonathan shewed him all those things. And Jonathan brought David to Saul, and he was in his presence, as in times past. 8. And there was war again: and David went out, and fought with the Philistines, and slew them with a great slaughter; and they fled from him. 9. And the evil spirit from the LORD was upon Saul, as he sat in his house with his javelin in his hand: and David played with his hand. 10. And Saul sought to smite David even to the wall with the javelin; but he slipped away out of Saul's presence, and he smote the javelin into the wall: and David fled, and escaped that night. . . . .
18. So David fled, and escaped, and came to Samuel to Ramah, and told him all that Saul had done to him. And he and Samuel went and dwelt in Naioth. 19. And it was told Saul, saying, Behold, David is at Naioth in Ramah. 20. And Saul sent messengers to take David: and when they saw the company of the prophets prophesying, and Samuel standing as appointed over them, the Spirit of God was upon the messengers of Saul, and they also prophesied. 21. And when it was told Saul, he ... he went thither to Naioth in Ramah: and the Spirit of God was upon him also, and he went on, and prophesied, until he came to Naioth in Ramah.
24. And he stripped off his clothes also, and prophesied before Samuel in like manner, and lay down naked all that day and all that night. Wherefore they say, Is Saul also among the prophets?
1Samuel, chap. 20.
4. Then said Jonathan unto David, Whatsoever thy soul desireth, I will even do it for thee. ... 16. So Jonathan made a covenant with the house of David, saying, Let the LORD even require it at the hand of David's enemies. 17. And Jonathan caused David to swear again, because he loved him: for he loved him as he loved his own soul.
30. Then Saul's anger was kindled against Jonathan, and he said unto him, Thou son of the perverse rebellious woman, do not I know that thou hast chosen the son of Jesse to thine own confusion, and unto the confusion of thy mother's nakedness? 31. For as long as the son of Jesse liveth upon the ground, thou shalt not be established, nor thy kingdom. Wherefore now send and fetch him unto me, for he shall surely die.
32. And Jonathan answered Saul his father, and said unto him, Wherefore shall he be slain? what hath he done? 33. And Saul cast a javelin at him to smite him: whereby Jonathan knew that it was determined of his father to slay David.
34. So Jonathan arose from the table in fierce anger, and did eat no meat the second day of the month: for he was grieved for David, because his father had done him shame.
35. And it came to pass in the morning, that Jonathan went out into the field at the time appointed with David, and a little lad with him. ... 41. And as soon as the lad was gone, David arose out of a place toward the south, and fell on his face to the ground, and bowed himself three times: and they kissed one another, and wept one with another, until David exceeded. 42. And Jonathan said to David, Go in peace, forasmuch as we have sworn both of us in the name of the LORD, saying, The LORD be between me and thee, and between my seed and thy seed for ever. And he arose and departed: and Jonathan went into the city.
1 Samuel, chap. 31.1-6
1. Now the Philistines fought against Israel: and the men of Israel fled from before the Philistines, and fell down slain in mount Gilboa. 2. And the Philistines followed hard upon Saul and upon his sons; and the Philistines slew Jonathan, and Abinadab, and Malchi-shua, Saul's sons. 3. And the battle went sore against Saul, and the archers hit him; and he was sore wounded of the archers.
4. Then said Saul unto his armourbearer, Draw thy sword, and thrust me through therewith; lest these uncircumcised come and thrust me through, and abuse me. But his armourbearer would not; for he was sore afraid. Therefore Saul took a sword, and fell upon it. 5. And when his armourbearer saw that Saul was dead, he fell likewise upon his sword, and died with him. 6. So Saul died, and his three sons, and his armourbearer, and all his men, that same day together.
2 Samuel, chap. 1.17-27
17. And David lamented with this lamentation over Saul and over Jonathan his son:... 23. Saul and Jonathan were lovely and pleasant in their lives, and in their death they were not divided: they were swifter than eagles, they were stronger than lions.... 25. How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! O Jonathan, thou was slain in thine high places. 26. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. 27. How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!
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Barnabe Googe, The Zodiake of Life (1565)
The Seconde booke entituled Taurus
[On the social perils of being poorly dressed:]
For all this same, yet shouldst not thou
the price of praise obtain:
But as reject of Everyman,
thou shalt receive disdain.
In vain thou shalt behold the hue
of Ganymede's face:
In vain and oft thou shalt desire
thy damsel to embrace:
If that with vile apparel thou
dost run the poor man's race.
(lines 507-516)
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Christopher Marlowe
From The Tragedy of Dido, Queen of Carthage (ca. 1590)
Here the curtains draw; there is discovered
Jupiter dandling Ganymede upon his knee,
and Mercury lying asleep.
Jup. Come, gentle Ganymede, and play with me.
I love thee well, say Juno what she will.
Gan. I am much better for your worthless love,
That will not shield me from her shrewish blows.
Today, whenas I filled into your cups
And held the cloth of pleasance while you drank,
She reached me such a rap for that I spilled,
As made the blood run down about mine ears.
Jup. What? dares she strike the darling of my thoughts?
10 By Saturn’s soul, and this earth threat’ning hair,
That, shaken thrice, makes Nature’s buildings quake,
I vow, if she but once frown on thee more,
To hang her, meteorlike, ’twixt heaven and earth,
And bind her, hand and foot, with golden cords,
As once I did for harming Hercules.
Gan. Might I but see that pretty sport afoot,
O, how would I with Helen’s brother laugh,
And bring the Gods to wonder at the game.
Sweet Jupiter, if e’er I pleased thine eye
Or seemed fair, walled in with Eagle’s wings,
20 Grace my immortal beauty with this boon,
And I will spend my time in thy bright arms.
Jup. What is’t, sweet wag, I should deny thy youth,
Whose face reflects such pleasure to mine eyes,
As I, exhaled with thy fire darting beams,
Have oft driven back the horses of the night,
Whenas they would have haled thee from my sight.
Sit on my knee and call for thy content;
Control proud Fate and cut the thread of time.
30 Why, are not all the Gods at thy command
And heaven and earth the bounds of thy delight?
Vulcan shall dance to make thee laughing sport,
And my nine Daughters sing when thou art sad.
From Juno’s bird I’ll pluck her spotted pride
To make thee fans wherewith to cool thy face,
And Venus’ Swans shall shed their silver down
To sweeten out the slumbers of thy bed.
Hermes no more shall show the world his wings,
If that thy fancy in his feathers dwell,
40 But, as this one, I’ll tear them all from him,
Do thou but say, "their color pleaseth me."
Hold here, my little love. These linked gems
My Juno ware upon her marriage day,
Put thou about thy neck, my own sweet heart,
And trick thy arms and shoulders with my theft.
Gan. I would have a jewel for mine ear
And a fine brooch to put in my hat,
And then I’ll hug with you an hundred times.
Jup. And shall have, Ganymede, if thou wilt be my love.
Enter Venus.
50 Ven. Ay, this is it! you can sit toying there
And playing with that female wanton boy,
While my Aeneas wanders on the Seas
And rests a prey to every billow’s pride.
Juno, false Juno, in her Chariot’s pomp,
Drawn through the heavens by steeds of Boreas’ brood,
Made Hebe to direct her airy wheels
Into the windy country of the clouds,
Where, finding Aeolus entrenched with storms
And guarded with a thousand grisly ghosts,
60 She humbly did beseech him for our bane,
And charged him drown my son with all his train.
Then gan the winds break ope their brazen doors
And all Aeolia to be up in arms
Poor Troy must now be sacked upon the Sea,
And Neptune’s waves be envious men of war;
Epeus’ horse, to Aetna’s hill transformed,
Prepared stands to wrack their wooden walls,
And Aeolus, like Agamemnon, sounds
The surges, his fierce soldiers, to the spoil.
70 See how the night, Ulysses-like, comes forth
And intercepts the day, as Dolon erst.
Ay me! the Stars surprised, like Rhesus’ Steeds,
Are drawn by darkness forth Astraeus’ tents.
What shall I do to save thee, my sweet boy,
Whenas the waves do threat our Crystal world,
And Proteus, raising hills of floods on high,
Intends ere long to sport him in the sky?
False Jupiter, reward’st thou virtue so?
What? is not piety exempt from woe?
80 Then die Aeneas in thine innocence,
Since that religion hath no recompense.
Jup. Content thee, Cytherea, in thy care,
Since thy Aeneas’ wandering fate is firm,
Whose weary limbs shall shortly make repose
In those fair walls I promised him of yore.
But first in blood must his good fortune bud,
Before he be the Lord of Turnus’ town,
Or force her smile that hitherto hath frowned.
Three winters shall he with the Rutiles war,
90 And in the end subdue them with his sword;
And full three Summers likewise shall he waste
In managing those fierce barbarian minds,
Which once performed, poor Troy, so long suppressed,
From forth her ashes shall advance her head,
And flourish once again, that erst was dead.
But bright Ascanius, beauty’s better work,
Who with the Sun divides one radiant shape,
Shall build his throne amidst those starry towers
That earth-born Atlas, groaning, underprops.
100 No bounds but heaven shall bound his Empery,
Whose azured gates enchased with his name,
Shall make the morning haste her gray uprise
To feed her eyes with his engraven fame.
Thus in stout Hector’s race thee hundred years
The Roman Scepter royal shall remain,
Till that a Princess priest conceived by Mars,
Shall yield to dignity a double birth,
Who will eternize Troy in their attempts.
Ven. How may I credit these thy flattering terms,
110 When yet both sea and sands beset their ships,
And Phoebus, as in Stygian pools, refrains
To taint his tresses in the Tyrrhene main?
Jup. I will take order for that presently.
Hermes awake, and haste to Neptune’s realm,
Whereas the Wind-god, warring now with Fate,
Besiege the offspring of our kingly loins.
Charge him from me to turn his stormy powers
And fetter them in Vulcan’s sturdy brass,
That durst thus proudly wrong our kinsman’s peace.
120 Venus, farewell; thy son shall be our care.
Come, Ganymede, we must about this gear.
Exeunt Jupiter cum Ganymede.
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Hero&Le.CMa (formerly Ule's HERO.TXT)
Hero and Leander by Christopher Marlowe
6,400 words
(pub. 1598)
HERO AND LEANDER: Begun by Christopher Marlowe.
Hero and Leander.
On Hellespont, guilty of Truelove's blood,
In view and opposite two cities stood,
Seaborderers, disjoined by Neptune's might;
The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight.
At Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero the fair,
Whom young Apollo courted for her hair,
And offered as a dower his burning throne,
Where she should sit for men to gaze upon.
The outside of her garments were of lawn,
The lining purple silk, with gilt stars drawn;
Her wide sleeves green, and bordered with a grove,
Where Venus in her naked glory strove
To please the careless and disdainful eyes
Of proud Adonis, that before her lies.
Her kirtle blue, whereon was many a stain,
Made with the blood of wretched Lovers slain.
Upon her head she ware a myrtle wreath,
From whence her veil reached to the ground beneath.
Her veil was artificial flowers and leaves
Whose workmanship both man and beast deceives.
Many would praise the sweet smell as she passed,
When 'twas the odor which her breath forth cast;
And there for honey bees have sought in vain,
And, beat from thence, have lighted there again.
About her neck hung chains of pebblestone,
Which, lightened by her neck, like Diamonds shone.
She ware no gloves; for neither sun nor wind
Would burn or parch her hands, but to her mind,
Or warm or cool them, for they took delight
To play upon those hands, they were so white.
Buskins of shells, all silvered used she,
And branched with blushing coral to the knee;
Where sparrows perched of hollow pearl and gold,
Such as the world would wonder to behold.
Those with sweet water oft her handmaid fills,
Which, as she went, would chirrup through the bills.
Some say for her the fairest Cupid pined
And looking in her face was strooken blind.
But this is true: so like was one the other,
As he imagined Hero was his mother.
And oftentimes into her bosom flew,
About her naked neck his bare arms threw,
And laid his childish head upon her breast,
And, with still panting rocked, there took his rest.
So lovely fair was Hero, Venus' Nun,
As nature wept, thinking she was undone,
Because she took more from her than she left,
And of such wondrous beauty her bereft.
Therefore, in sign her treasure suffered wrack,
Since Hero's time hath half the world been black.
Amorous Leander, beautiful and young,
(Whose tragedy divine Musaeus sung,)
Dwelt at Abydos; since him dwelt there none
For whom succeeding times make greater moan.
His dangling tresses, that were never shorn,
Had they been cut, and unto Colchos borne,
Would have allured the venturous youth of Greece
To hazard more than for the golden Fleece.
Fair Cynthia wished his arms might be her sphere;
Grief makes her pale, because she moves not there.
His body was as straight as Circe's wand;
Jove might have sipped out Nectar from his hand.
Even as delicious meat is to the taste,
So was his neck in touching, and surpassed
The white of Pelops' shoulder. I could tell ye
How smooth his breast was and how white his belly;
And whose immortal fingers did imprint
That heavenly path with many a curious dint
That runs along his back, but my rude pen
Can hardly blazon forth the loves of men,
Much less of powerful gods. Let it suffice
That my slack muse sings of Leander's eyes,
Those orient cheeks and lips, exceeding his
That leaped into the water for a kiss
Of his own shadow and, despising many,
Died ere he could enjoy the love of any.
Had wild Hippolytus Leander seen
Enamored of his beauty had he been.
His presence made the rudest peasant melt
That in the vast uplandish country dwelt.
The barbarous Thracian soldier, moved with nought,
Was moved with him and for his favor sought.
Some swore he was a maid in man's attire,
For in his looks were all that men desire,
A pleasant smiling cheek, a speaking eye,
A brow for love to banquet royally.
And such as knew he was a man, would say,
"Leander, thou art made for amorous play.
Why art thou not in love, and loved of all?
Though thou be fair, yet be not thine own thrall."
The men of wealthy Sestos every year,
(For his sake whom their goddess held so dear,
Rose-cheeked Adonis) kept a solemn feast.
Thither resorted many a wandering guest
To meet their loves. Such as had none at all,
Came lovers home from this great festival.
For every street like to a Firmament
Glistered with breathing stars who, where they went,
Frighted the melancholy earth which deemed
Eternal heaven to burn, for so it seemed,
As if another Phaeton had got
The guidance of the sun's rich chariot.
But far above the loveliest Hero shined
And stole away th' enchanted gazer's mind,
For like Sea nymphs' enveigling harmony,
So was her beauty to the standers by.
Nor that night-wandering, pale, and watery star
(When yawning dragons draw her thirling car
From Latmus' mount up to the gloomy sky
Where, crowned with blazing light and majesty,
She proudly sits) more overrules the flood
Than she the hearts of those that near her stood.
Even as, when gaudy Nymphs pursue the chase,
Wretched Ixion's shaggy footed race,
Incensed with savage heat, gallop amain
From steep Pine-bearing mountains to the plain.
So ran the people forth to gaze upon her,
And all that viewed her were enamored on her.
And as in fury of a dreadful fight,
Their fellows being slain or put to flight,
Poor soldiers stand with fear of death dead strooken,
So at her presence all surprised and tooken,
Await the sentence of her scornful eyes.
He whom she favors lives, the other dies.
There might you see one sigh, another rage;
And some, (their violent passions to assuage)
Compile sharp satires, but alas too late,
For faithful love will never turn to hate.
And many seeing great princes were denied
Pined as they went and thinking on her died.
On this feast day, O cursed day and hour,
Went Hero thorough Sestos from her tower
To Venus' temple, where unhappily
As after chanced, they did each other spy.
So fair a church as this had Venus none.
The walls were of discolored Jasper stone
Wherein was Proteus carved, and o'erhead
A lively vine of green sea agate spread,
Where by one hand lightheaded Bacchus hung,
And, with the other, wine from grapes out wrung.
Of Crystal shining fair the pavement was.
The town of Sestos called it Venus' glass.
There might you see the gods in sundry shapes
Committing heady riots, incest, rapes.
For know, that underneath this radiant floor
Was Danae's statue in a brazen tower,
Jove slyly stealing from his sister's bed,
To dally with Idalian Ganymede,
And for his love Europa bellowing loud,
And tumbling with the Rainbow in a cloud;
Blood quaffing Mars heaving the iron net
Which limping Vulcan and his Cyclops set;
Love kindling fire to burn such towns as Troy;
Sylvanus weeping for the lovely boy
That now is turned into a Cypress tree,
Under whose shade the Wood gods love to be.
And in the midst a silver altar stood.
There Hero, sacrificing turtle's blood,
Vailed to the ground, vailing her eyelids close,
And modestly they opened as she rose.
Thence flew Love's arrow with the golden head,
And thus Leander was enamored.
Stone still he stood, and evermore he gazed
Till with the fire that from his countenance blazed
Relenting Hero's gentle heart was strook.
Such force and virtue hath an amorous look.
It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin
We wish that one should lose, the other win.
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold Ingots like in each respect.
The reason no man knows; let it suffice
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight;
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
He kneeled, but unto her devoutly prayed.
Chaste Hero to herself thus softly said,
"were I the saint he worships, I would hear him;"
And, as she spake those words, came somewhat near him.
He started up, she blushed as one ashamed,
Wherewith Leander much more was inflamed.
He touched her hand; in touching it she trembled.
Love deeply grounded, hardly is dissembled.
These lovers parleyed by the touch of hands;
True love is mute, and oft amazed stands.
Thus while dumb signs their yielding hearts entangled,
The air with sparks of living fire was spangled,
And night, deep drenched in misty Acheron,
Heaved up her head, and half the world upon
Breathed darkness forth (dark night is Cupid's day).
And now begins Leander to display
Love's holy fire, with words, with sighs, and tears,
Which like sweet music entered Hero's ears,
And yet at every word she turned aside,
And always cut him off as he replied.
At last, like to a bold sharp Sophister,
With cheerful hope thus he accosted her.
"Fair creature, let me speak without offense.
I would my rude words had the influence
To lead thy thoughts as thy fair looks do mine,
Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine.
Be not unkind and fair; misshapen stuff
Are of behavior boisterous and rough.
O shun me not, but hear me ere you go.
God knows I cannot force love as you do.
My words shall be as spotless as my youth,
Full of simplicity and naked truth.
This sacrifice, (whose sweet perfume descending
From Venus' altar, to your footsteps bending)
Doth testify that you exceed her far,
To whom you offer, and whose Nun you are.
Why should you worship her? her you surpass
As much as sparkling Diamonds flaring glass.
A Diamond set in lead his worth retains;
A heavenly Nymph, beloved of human swains,
Receives no blemish, but ofttimes more grace;
Which makes me hope, although I am but base,
Base in respect of thee divine and pure,
Dutiful service may thy love procure.
And I in duty will excel all other,
As thou in beauty dost exceed love's mother.
Nor heaven, nor thou, were made to gaze upon,
As heaven preserves all things, so save thou one.
A stately builded ship, well rigged and tall,
The Ocean maketh more majestical.
Why vowest thou then to live in Sestos here
Who on Love's seas more glorious wouldst appear?
Like untuned golden strings all women are,
Which long time lie untouched, will harshly jar.
Vessels of Brass, oft handled, brightly shine.
What difference betwixt the richest mine
And basest mold, but use? for both, not used,
Are of like worth. Then treasure is abused
When misers keep it; being put to loan,
In time it will return us two for one.
Rich robes themselves and others do adorn;
Neither themselves nor others, if not worn.
Who builds a palace and rams up the gate
Shall see it ruinous and desolate.
Ah, simple Hero, learn thyself to cherish.
Lone women like to empty houses perish.
Less sins the poor rich man that starves himself
In heaping up a mass of drossy pelf,
Than such as you. His golden earth remains
Which, after his decease, some other gains.
But this fair gem, sweet in the loss alone,
When you fleet hence, can be bequeathed to none.
Or, if it could, down from th' enameled sky
All heaven would come to claim this legacy,
And with intestine broils the world destroy,
And quite confound nature's sweet harmony.
Well therefore by the gods decreed it is
We human creatures should enjoy that bliss.
One is no number; maids are nothing then
Without the sweet society of men.
Wilt thou live single still? one shalt thou be,
Though never singling Hymen couple thee.
Wild savages, that drink of running springs,
Think water far excels all earthly things,
But they that daily taste neat wine despise it.
Virginity, albeit some highly prize it,
Compared with marriage, had you tried them both,
Differs as much as wine and water doth.
Base bullion for the stamp's sake we allow;
Even so for men's impression do we you,
By which alone, our reverend fathers say,
Women receive perfection every way.
This idol which you term Virginity
Is neither essence subject to the eye
No, nor to any one exterior sense,
Nor hath it any place of residence,
Nor is't of earth or mold celestial,
Or capable of any form at all.
Of that which hath no being do not boast;
Things that are not at all are never lost.
Men foolishly do call it virtuous;
What virtue is it that is born with us?
Much less can honor be ascribed thereto;
Honor is purchased by the deeds we do.
Believe me, Hero, honor is not won
Until some honorable deed be done.
Seek you for chastity, immortal fame,
And know that some have wronged Diana's name?
Whose name is it, if she be false or not
So she be fair, but some vile tongues will blot?
But you are fair, (ay me) so wondrous fair,
So young, so gentle, and so debonair,
As Greece will think if thus you live alone
Some one or other keeps you as his own.
Then, Hero, hate me not nor from me fly
To follow swiftly blasting infamy.
Perhaps thy sacred Priesthood makes thee loath.
Tell me, to whom mad'st thou that heedless oath?"
"To Venus," answered she and, as she spake,
Forth from those two tralucent cisterns brake
A stream of liquid pearl, which down her face
Made milk-white paths, whereon the gods might trace
To Jove's high court. He thus replied: "The rites
In which Love's beauteous Empress most delights
Are banquets, Doric music, midnight revel,
Plays, masks, and all that stern age counteth evil.
Thee as a holy Idiot doth she scorn
For thou in vowing chastity hast sworn
To rob her name and honor, and thereby
Committ'st a sin far worse than perjury,
Even sacrilege against her Deity,
Through regular and formal purity.
To expiate which sin, kiss and shake hands.
Such sacrifice as this Venus demands."
Thereat she smiled and did deny him so,
As put thereby, yet might he hope for moe.
Which makes him quickly re-enforce his speech,
And her in humble manner thus beseech.
"Though neither gods nor men may thee deserve,
Yet for her sake, whom you have vowed to serve,
Abandon fruitless cold Virginity,
The gentle queen of Love's sole enemy.
Then shall you most resemble Venus' Nun,
When Venus' sweet rites are performed and done.
Flint-breasted Pallas joys in single life,
But Pallas and your mistress are at strife.
Love, Hero, then, and be not tyrannous,
But heal the heart that thou hast wounded thus,
Nor stain thy youthful years with avarice.
Fair fools delight to be accounted nice.
The richest corn dies, if it be not reaped;
Beauty alone is lost, too warily kept."
These arguments he used, and many more,
Wherewith she yielded, that was won before.
Hero's looks yielded but her words made war.
Women are won when they begin to jar.
Thus, having swallowed Cupid's golden hook,
The more she strived, the deeper was she strook.
Yet, evilly feigning anger, strove she still
And would be thought to grant against her will.
So having paused a while at last she said,
"Who taught thee Rhetoric to deceive a maid?
Ay me, such words as these should I abhor
And yet I like them for the Orator."
With that Leander stooped to have embraced her
But from his spreading arms away she cast her,
And thus bespake him: "Gentle youth, forbear
To touch the sacred garments which I wear.
Upon a rock and underneath a hill
Far from the town (where all is whist and still,
Save that the sea, playing on yellow sand,
Sends forth a rattling murmur to the land,
Whose sound allures the golden Morpheus
In silence of the night to visit us,)
My turret stands and there, God knows, I play
With Venus' swans and sparrows all the day.
A dwarfish beldam bears me company,
That hops about the chamber where I lie,
And spends the night (that might be better spent)
In vain discourse and apish merriment.
Come thither." As she spake this, her tongue tripped,
For unawares "Come thither" from her slipped.
And suddenly her former color changed,
And here and there her eyes through anger ranged.
And like a planet, moving several ways,
At one self instant she, poor soul, assays,
Loving, not to love at all, and every part
Strove to resist the motions of her heart.
And hands so pure, so innocent, nay, such
As might have made heaven stoop to have a touch,
Did she uphold to Venus, and again
Vowed spotless chastity, but all in vain.
Cupid beats down her prayers with his wings,
Her vows above the empty air he flings,
All deep enraged, his sinewy bow he bent,
And shot a shaft that burning from him went,
Wherewith she strooken, looked so dolefully,
As made Love sigh to see his tyranny.
And as she wept her tears to pearl he turned,
And wound them on his arm and for her mourned.
Then towards the palace of the destinies
Laden with languishment and grief he flies,
And to those stern nymphs humbly made request
Both might enjoy each other, and be blest.
But with a ghastly dreadful countenance,
Threatening a thousand deaths at every glance,
They answered Love, nor would vouchsafe so much
As one poor word, their hate to him was such.
Hearken a while and I will tell you why.
Heaven's winged herald, Jove-borne Mercury,
The selfsame day that he asleep had laid
Enchanted Argus, spied a country maid
Whose careless hair instead of pearl t' adorn it
Glistered with dew, as one that seemed to scorn it;
Her breath as fragrant as the morning rose,
Her mind pure, and her tongue untaught to gloze.
Yet proud she was (for lofty pride that dwells
In towered courts is oft in shepherds' cells.)
And too too well the fair vermilion knew
And silver tincture of her cheeks, that drew
The love of every swain. On her this god
Enamored was, and with his snaky rod
Did charm her nimble feet, and made her stay,
The while upon a hillock down he lay
And sweetly on his pipe began to play,
And with smooth speech her fancy to assay,
Till in his twining arms he locked her fast
And then he wooed with kisses; and at last,
As shepherds do, her on the ground he laid
And, tumbling in the grass, he often strayed
Beyond the bounds of shame, in being bold
To eye those parts which no eye should behold.
And, like an insolent commanding lover
Boasting his parentage, would needs discover
The way to new Elysium, but she,
Whose only dower was her chastity,
Having striven in vain was now about to cry
And crave the help of shepherds that were nigh.
Herewith he stayed his fury, and began
To give her leave to rise. Away she ran;
After went Mercury who used such cunning
As she, to hear his tale, left off her running.
Maids are not won by brutish force and might,
But speeches full of pleasure, and delight.
And, knowing Hermes courted her, was glad
That she such loveliness and beauty had
As could provoke his liking, yet was mute
And neither would deny nor grant his suit.
Still vowed he love. She, wanting no excuse
To feed him with delays, as women use,
Or thirsting after immortality, -
All women are ambitious naturally, -
Imposed upon her lover such a task
As he ought not perform nor yet she ask.
A draught of flowing Nectar she requested,
Wherewith the king of Gods and men is feasted.
He, ready to accomplish what she willed,
Stole some from Hebe (Hebe Jove's cup filled)
And gave it to his simple rustic love.
Which being known (as what is hid from Jove)
He inly stormed and waxed more furious
Than for the fire filched by Prometheus,
And thrusts him down from heaven. He, wandering here,
In mournful terms with sad and heavy cheer
Complained to Cupid. Cupid for his sake,
To be revenged on Jove did undertake.
And those on whom heaven, earth, and hell relies,
I mean the Adamantine Destinies,
He wounds with love, and forced them equally
To dote upon deceitful Mercury.
They offered him the deadly fatal knife
That shears the slender threads of human life.
At his fair feathered feet the engines laid
Which th' earth from ugly Chaos' den upweighed.
These he regarded not but did entreat
That Jove, usurper of his father's seat,
Might presently be banished into hell,
And aged Saturn in Olympus dwell.
They granted what he craved, and once again
Saturn and Ops began their golden reign.
Murder, rape, war, lust, and treachery,
Were with Jove closed in Stygian Empery.
But long this blessed time continued not.
As soon as he his wished purpose got
He reckless of his promise did despise
The love of th' everlasting Destinies.
They seeing it both Love and him abhorred
And Jupiter unto his place restored.
And but that Learning in despite of Fate
Will mount aloft and enter heaven gate
And to the seat of Jove itself advance,
Hermes had slept in hell with ignorance.
Yet as a punishment they added this,
That he and Poverty should always kiss.
And to this day is every scholar poor;
Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor.
Likewise the angry sisters thus deluded,
To venge themselves on Hermes, have concluded
That Midas' brood shall sit in Honor's chair,
To which the Muses' sons are only heir;
And fruitful wits, that in aspiring are,
Shall discontent run into regions far;
And few great lords in virtuous deeds shall joy
But be surprised with every garish toy,
And still enrich the lofty servile clown,
Who with encroaching guile keeps learning down.
Then muse not Cupid's suit no better sped,
Seeing in their loves the Fates were injured.
By this, sad Hero, with love unacquainted,
Viewing Leander's face, fell down and fainted.
He kissed her and breathed life into her lips,
Wherewith as one displeased away she trips.
Yet, as she went, full often looked behind,
And many poor excuses did she find
To linger by the way, and once she stayed,
And would have turned again, but was afraid,
In offering parley, to be counted light.
So on she goes and in her idle flight
Her painted fan of curled plumes let fall,
Thinking to train Leander therewithal.
He, being a novice, knew not what she meant
But stayed, and after her a letter sent,
Which joyful Hero answered in such sort,
As he had hope to scale the beauteous fort
Wherein the liberal graces locked their wealth,
And therefore to her tower he got by stealth.
Wide open stood the door, he need not climb,
And she herself before the pointed time
Had spread the board, with roses strowed the room,
And oft looked out, and mused he did not come.
At last he came. O who can tell the greeting
These greedy lovers had at their first meeting.
He asked, she gave, and nothing was denied.
Both to each other quickly were affied.
Look how their hands, so were their hearts united,
And what he did she willingly requited.
(Sweet are the kisses, the embracements sweet,
When like desires and affections meet,
For from the earth to heaven is Cupid raised,
Where fancy is in equal balance peised.)
Yet she this rashness suddenly repented
And turned aside, and to herself lamented
As if her name and honor had been wronged
By being possessed of him for whom she longed.
Ay, and she wished, albeit not from her heart
That he would leave her turret and depart.
The mirthful God of amorous pleasure smiled
To see how he this captive Nymph beguiled.
For hitherto he did but fan the fire,
And kept it down that it might mount the higher.
Now waxed she jealous lest his love abated,
Fearing her own thoughts made her to be hated.
Therefore unto him hastily she goes
And, like light Salmacis, her body throws
Upon his bosom where with yielding eyes
She offers up herself a sacrifice
To slake his anger if he were displeased.
O, what god would not therewith be appeased?
Like Aesop's cock this jewel he enjoyed
And as a brother with his sister toyed
Supposing nothing else was to be done,
Now he her favor and good will had won.
But know you not that creatures wanting sense
By nature have a mutual appetence,
And, wanting organs to advance a step,
Moved by Love's force unto each other lep?
Much more in subjects having intellect
Some hidden influence breeds like effect.
Albeit Leander rude in love and raw,
Long dallying with Hero, nothing saw
That might delight him more, yet he suspected
Some amorous rites or other were neglected.
Therefore unto his body hers he clung.
She, fearing on the rushes to be flung,
Strived with redoubled strength; the more she strived
The more a gentle pleasing heat revived,
Which taught him all that elder lovers know.
And now the same gan so to scorch and glow
As in plain terms (yet cunningly) he craved it.
Love always makes those eloquent that have it.
She, with a kind of granting, put him by it
And ever, as he thought himself most nigh it,
Like to the tree of Tantalus, she fled
And, seeming lavish, saved her maidenhead.
Ne'er king more sought to keep his diadem,
Than Hero this inestimable gem.
Above our life we love a steadfast friend,
Yet when a token of great worth we send,
We often kiss it, often look thereon,
And stay the messenger that would be gone.
No marvel then, though Hero would not yield
So soon to part from that she dearly held.
Jewels being lost are found again, this never;
'Tis lost but once, and once lost, lost forever.
Now had the morn espied her lover's steeds,
Whereat she starts, puts on her purple weeds,
And red for anger that he stayed so long,
All headlong throws herself the clouds among.
And now Leander, fearing to be missed,
Embraced her suddenly, took leave, and kissed.
Long was he taking leave, and loath to go,
And kissed again as lovers use to do.
Sad Hero wrung him by the hand and wept
Saying, "let your vows and promises be kept."
Then standing at the door she turned about
As loath to see Leander going out.
And now the sun that through th' horizon peeps,
As pitying these lovers, downward creeps,
So that in silence of the cloudy night,
Though it was morning, did he take his flight.
But what the secret trusty night concealed
Leander's amorous habit soon revealed.
With Cupid's myrtle was his bonnet crowned,
About his arms the purple riband wound
Wherewith she wreathed her largely spreading hair.
Nor could the youth abstain, but he must wear
The sacred ring wherewith she was endowed
When first religious chastity she vowed.
Which made his love through Sestos to be known,
And thence unto Abydos sooner blown
Than he could sail; for incorporeal Fame
Whose weight consists in nothing but her name,
Is swifter than the wind, whose tardy plumes
Are reeking water and dull earthly fumes.
Home when he came, he seemed not to be there,
But, like exiled air thrust from his sphere,
Set in a foreign place; and straight from thence,
Alcides like, by mighty violence
He would have chased away the swelling main
That him from her unjustly did detain.
Like as the sun in a Diameter
Fires and inflames objects removed far,
And heateth kindly, shining laterally,
So beauty sweetly quickens when 'tis nigh,
But being separated and removed,
Burns where it cherished, murders where it loved.
Therefore even as an Index to a book,
So to his mind was young Leander's look.
O, none but gods have power their love to hide,
Affection by the countenance is descried.
The light of hidden fire itself discovers,
And love that is concealed betrays poor lovers.
His secret flame apparently was seen.
Leander's Father knew where he had been
And for the same mildly rebuked his son,
Thinking to quench the sparkles new begun.
But love resisted once grows passionate,
And nothing more than counsel lovers hate.
For as a hot proud horse highly disdains
To have his head controlled, but breaks the reins,
Spits forth the ringled bit, and with his hooves
Checks the submissive ground; so he that loves,
The more he is restrained, the worse he fares.
What is it now, but mad Leander dares?
"O Hero, Hero!" Thus he cried full oft;
And then he got him to a rock aloft,
Where having spied her tower, long stared he on't,
And prayed the narrow toiling Hellespont
To part in twain, that he might come and go;
But still the rising billows answered, "no."
With that he stripped him to the ivory skin
And, crying "Love, I come," leaped lively in.
Whereat the sapphire visaged god grew proud,
And made his capering Triton sound aloud,
Imagining that Ganymede, displeased,
Had left the heavens; therefore on him he seized.
Leander strived; the waves about him wound,
And pulled him to the bottom, where the ground
Was strewed with pearl, and in low coral groves
Sweet singing Mermaids sported with their loves
On heaps of heavy gold, and took great pleasure
To spurn in careless sort the shipwrack treasure.
For here the stately azure palace stood
Where kingly Neptune and his train abode.
The lusty god embraced him, called him "love,"
And swore he never should return to jove.
But when he knew it was not Ganymede,
For under water he was almost dead,
He heaved him up and, looking on his face,
Beat down the bold waves with his triple mace,
Which mounted up, intending to have kissed him,
And fell in drops like tears because they missed him.
Leander, being up, began to swim
And, looking back, saw Neptune follow him,
Whereat aghast, the poor soul 'gan to cry,
"O, let me visit Hero ere I die!"
The god put Helle's bracelet on his arm,
And swore the sea should never do him harm.
He clapped his plump cheeks, with his tresses played
And, smiling wantonly, his love bewrayed.
He watched his arms and, as they opened wide
At every stroke, betwixt them would he slide
And steal a kiss, and then run out and dance,
And, as he turned, cast many a lustful glance,
And threw him gaudy toys to please his eye,
And dive into the water, and there pry
Upon his breast, his thighs, and every limb,
And up again, and close beside him swim,
And talk of love. Leander made reply,
"You are deceived; I am no woman, I."
Thereat smiled Neptune, and then told a tale,
How that a shepherd, sitting in a vale,
Played with a boy so fair and kind,
As for his love both earth and heaven pined;
That of the cooling river durst not drink,
Lest water nymphs should pull him from the brink.
And when he sported in the fragrant lawns,
Goat footed Satyrs and upstaring Fawns
Would steal him thence. Ere half this tale was done,
"Ay me," Leander cried, "th' enamored sun
That now should shine on Thetis' glassy bower,
Descends upon my radiant Hero's tower.
O, that these tardy arms of mine were wings!"
And, as he spake, upon the waves he springs.
Neptune was angry that he gave no ear,
And in his heart revenging malice bare.
He flung at him his mace but, as it went,
He called it in, for love made him repent.
The mace, returning back, his own hand hit
As meaning to be venged for darting it.
When this fresh bleeding wound Leander viewed,
His color went and came, as if he rued
The grief which Neptune felt. In gentle breasts
Relenting thoughts, remorse, and pity rests.
And who have hard hearts and obdurate minds,
But vicious, harebrained, and illiterate hinds?
The god, seeing him with pity to be moved,
Thereon concluded that he was beloved.
(Love is too full of faith, too credulous,
With folly and false hope deluding us.)
Wherefore, Leander's fancy to surprise,
To the rich Ocean for gifts he flies.
'Tis wisdom to give much; a gift prevails
When deep persuading Oratory fails.
By this Leander, being near the land,
Cast down his weary feet and felt the sand.
Breathless albeit he were he rested not
Till to the solitary tower he got,
And knocked and called. At which celestial noise
The longing heart of Hero much more joys
Than nymphs and shepherds when the timbrel rings,
Or crooked Dolphin when the sailor sings.
She stayed not for her robes but straight arose
And, drunk with gladness, to the door she goes,
Where seeing a naked man, she screeched for fear,
(Such sights as this to tender maids are rare,)
And ran into the dark herself to hide.
(Rich jewels in the dark are soonest spied).
Unto her was he led, or rather drawn
By those white limbs which sparkled through the lawn.
The nearer that he came, the more she fled,
And, seeking refuge, slipped into her bed.
Whereon Leander sitting thus began,
Through numbing cold, all feeble, faint, and wan.
"If not for love, yet, love, for pity sake,
Me in thy bed and maiden bosom take.
At least vouchsafe these arms some little room,
Who, hoping to embrace thee, cheerly swum.
This head was beat with many a churlish billow,
And therefore let it rest upon thy pillow."
Herewith affrighted, Hero shrunk away,
And in her lukewarm place Leander lay,
Whose lively heat, like fire from heaven fet,
Would animate gross clay and higher set
The drooping thoughts of base declining souls
Than dreary Mars carousing Nectar bowls.
His hands he cast upon her like a snare.
She, overcome with shame and sallow fear,
Like chaste Diana when Actaeon spied her,
Being suddenly betrayed, dived down to hide her.
And, as her silver body downward went,
With both her hands she made the bed a tent,
And in her own mind thought herself secure,
O'ercast with dim and darksome coverture.
And now she lets him whisper in her ear,
Flatter, entreat, promise, protest and swear;
Yet ever, as he greedily assayed
To touch those dainties, she the Harpy played,
And every limb did, as a soldier stout,
Defend the fort, and keep the foeman out.
For though the rising ivory mount he scaled,
Which is with azure circling lines empaled,
Much like a globe (a globe may I term this,
By which love sails to regions full of bliss,)
Yet there with Sisyphus he toiled in vain,
Till gentle parley did the truce obtain.
Wherein Leander on her quivering breast
Breathless spoke something, and sighed out the rest;
Which so prevailed, as he with small ado
Enclosed her in his arms and kissed her too.
And every kiss to her was as a charm,
And to Leander as a fresh alarm,
So that the truce was broke and she, alas,
(Poor silly maiden) at his mercy was.
Love is not full of pity (as men say)
But deaf and cruel where he means to prey.
Even as a bird, which in our hands we wring,
Forth plungeth and oft flutters with her wing,
She trembling strove. This strife of hers (like that
Which made the world) another world begat
Of unknown joy. Treason was in her thought,
And cunningly to yield herself she sought.
Seeming not won, yet won she was at length.
In such wars women use but half their strength.
Leander now, like Theban Hercules,
Entered the orchard of Th' Hesperides;
Whose fruit none rightly can describe but he
That pulls or shakes it from the golden tree.
And now she wished this night were never done,
And sighed to think upon th' approaching sun;
For much it grieved her that the bright daylight
Should know the pleasure of this blessed night,
And them, like Mars and Erycine, display
Both in each other's arms chained as they lay.
Again, she knew not how to frame her look,
Or speak to him, who in a moment took
That which so long, so charily she kept;
And fain by stealth away she would have crept,
And to some corner secretly have gone,
Leaving Leander in the bed alone.
But as her naked feet were whipping out,
He on the sudden clinged her so about,
That, Mermaid-like, unto the floor she slid.
One half appeared, the other half was hid.
Thus near the bed she blushing stood upright,
And from her countenance behold ye might
A kind of twilight break, which through the hair,
As from an orient cloud, glimpsed here and there,
And round about the chamber this false morn
Brought forth the day before the day was born.
So Hero's ruddy cheek Hero betrayed,
And her all naked to his sight displayed,
Whence his admiring eyes more pleasure took
Than Dis, on heaps of gold fixing his look.
By this, Apollo's golden harp began
To sound forth music to the Ocean,
Which watchful Hesperus no sooner heard
But he the bright day-bearing Car prepared
And ran before, as Harbinger of light,
And with his flaring beams mocked ugly night,
Till she, o'ercome with anguish, shame, and rage,
Danged down to hell her loathsome carriage.
Desunt nonnulla.
===============================================
The Passionate Shepherd by Christopher Marlowe (ca. 1590)
The passionate shepherd to his love.
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That valleys, groves, hills and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle,
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy-buds
With coral clasps and amber studs,
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
*
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning.
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
Finis.
*Some mss. have an extra stanza bet. 4 & 5, in one of two forms:
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
or
Thy silver dishes, be filled with meat
Such as the gods do use to eat,
Shall on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
===============================================
Barnabe Barnes, Sonnet 54 from Parthenophil and Parthenope (London, 1593)
54
When I was young, indewed with nature’s graces,
I stole blind Love’s strong bow and golden arrows
To shoot at redbreasts, goldfinches and sparrows,
At shrew’d girls, and at boys in other places
5 I shot when I was vexéd with disgraces.
I pierced no skin, but melted up their marrows.
How many boys and girls wished mine embraces!
How many praised my favor ’bove all faces!
But once, Parthenophe, by thy sweet side sitting,
10 Love had espied me in a place most fitting,
Betrayed by thine eyes’ beams which makes blind see.
He shot at me and said, "For thine eyes’ light,
This daring boy that durst usurp my right,
Take him, a wounded slave to love, and thee."
(1593)
===============================================
The Affectionate Shepherd: Containing the Complaint of Daphnis for the Love of Ganymede (1594)
by Richard Barnfield (1574-1622)
THE AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD:
Amor plus mellis, quam fellis, etc.
TO THE RIGHT EXCELLENT AND MOST BEAUTIFUL LADY,
THE LADY PENELOPE RICH
Fair lovely lady, whose angelic eyes
Are vestal candles of sweet Beauty's treasure,
Whose speech is able to enchant the wise,
Converting joy to pain, and pain to pleasure;
Accept this simple toy of my Soul's duty, 5
Which I present unto thy matchless beauty,
And albeit the gift be all too mean,
Too mean an offering for thine ivory shrine;
Yet must thy beauty my just blame sustain,
Since it is mortal, but thy self divine. 10
Then (Noble Lady) take in gentle worth,
This new-born babe which here my Muse brings forth.
Yours Honor's most affectionate
and perpetually devoted Shepherd:
DAPHNIS
THE TEARS OF AN AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD SICK FOR LOVE:
OR, THE COMPLAINT OF DAPHNIS FOR THE LOVE OF GANYMEDE
Scarce had the morning Star hid from the
Heaven's crimson Canopy with stars bespangled,
But I began to rue th' unhappy sight
Of that fair Boy that had my heart entangled;
Cursing the Time, the Place, the sense, the sin; 5
I came, I saw, I viewed, I slipped in.
If it be sin to love a sweet-faced Boy,
(Whose amber locks trussed up in golden trammels
Dangle a-down his lovely cheeks with joy,
When pearl and flowers his fair hair enamels) 10
If it be sin to love a lovely Lad;
O then sin I, for whom my soul is sad.
His Ivory-white and Alablaster skin
Is stained throughout with rare Vermilion red,
Whose twinkling starry lights do never blin 15
To shine on lovely Venus (Beauty's bed:)
But as the Lily and the blushing Rose,
So white and red on him in order grows.
Upon a time the Nymphs bestirred themselves
To try who could his beauty soonest win 20
But he accounted them but all as Elves,
Except it were the fair Queen Gwendolyn,
Her he embraced, of her was beloved,
With plaints he proved, and with tears he moved.
But her an Old Man had been suitor to, 25
That in his age began to dote again;
Her would he often pray, and often woo,
When through old age enfeebled was his Brain
But she before had loud a lusty youth
That now was dead, the cause of all her ruth. 30
And thus it happened, Death and Cupid met
Upon a time at swilling Bacchus' house,
Where dainty cates upon the Board were set,
And Goblets full of wine to drink carouse
Where Love and Death did love the liquor so, 35
That out they fall and to the fray they go.
And having both their Quivers at their back
Filled full of Arrows; th' one of fatal steel,
The other all of gold; Death's shaft was black,
But Love's was yellow Fortune turned her wheel; 40
And from Death's Quiver fell a fatal shaft,
That under Cupid by the wind was waft.
And at the same time by ill hap there fell
Another Arrow out of Cupid Quiver;
The which was carried by the wind at will, 45
And under Death the amorous shaft did shiver:
They being parted, Love took up Death's dart,
And Death took up Love's Arrow (for his part.)
Thus as they wandered both about the world,
At last Death met with one of feeble age 50
Wherewith he drew a shaft and at him hurled
The unknown Arrow; (with a furious rage)
Thinking to strike him dead with Death's black dart,
But he (alas) with Love did wound his heart.
This was the doting fool, this was the man 55
That loved fair Gwendolyna Queen of Beauty;
She cannot slake him off, do what she can,
For he hath vowed to her his soul's last duty
Making him trim upon the holidays;
And crowns his Love with Garlands made of Bays. 60
Now doth he stroke his Beard; and now (again)
He wipes the drivel from his filthy chin;
Now offers he a kiss; but high Disdain
Will not permit her heart to pity him:
Her heart more hard than Adamant or steel, 65
Her heart more changeable than Fortune's wheel.
But leave we him in love (up to the ears)
And tell how Love behaved himself abroad;
Who seeing one that mourned still in tears
(A young man groaning under Love's great Load) 70
Thinking to ease his Burden, rid his pains
For men have grief as long as life remains.
Alas (the while) that unawares he drew
The fatal shaft that Death had dropped before;
By which deceit great harm did then issue, 75
Staining his face with blood and filthy gore.
His face, that was to Gwendolyn more dear
Than love of Lords, of any lordly Peer.
This was that fair and beautiful young man,
Whom Gwendolyna so lamented for; 80
This is that Love whom she doth curse and ban,
Because she doth that dismal chance abhor
And if it were not for his Mother's sake,
Even Ganymede himself she would forsake.
O would she would forsake my Ganymede, 85
Whose sugAred love is full of sweet delight,
Upon whose forehead you may plainly read
Love's Pleasure, graved in ivory Tables bright:
In whose fair eyeballs you may clearly see
Base Love still stained with foul indignity. 90
O would to God he would but pity me,
That love him more than any mortal wight;
Then he and I with love would soon agree,
That now cannot abide his Suitor's sight.
O would to God (so I might have my fee) 95
My lips were honey, and thy mouth a Be.
Then shouldst thou suck my sweet and my fair flower
That now is ripe, and full of honey-berries:
Then would I lead thee to my pleasant Bower
Filled full of Grapes, of Mulberries, and Cherries; 100
Then shouldst thou be my Wasp or else my Be,
I would thy hive, and thou my honey be.
I would put amber Bracelets on thy wrists,
Crownets of Pearl about thy naked Arms
And when thou sittest at swilling Bacchus' feasts 105
My lips with charms should save thee from ill harms:
And when in sleep thou tookest thy chiefest Pleasure,
Mine eyes should gaze upon thine eyelids' Treasure.
And every Morn by dawning of the day,
When Phoebus riseth with a blushing face, 110
Silvanus' Chapel-Clerks shall chant a Lay,
And play thee Hunts-up in thy resting place:
My Cote thy Chamber, my bosom thy Bed;
Shall be appointed for thy sleepy head.
And when it pleaseth thee to walk abroad, 115
(Abroad into the fields to take fresh air:)
The Meads with Flora's treasure should be strowed,
(The mantled meadows, and the fields so fair.)
And by a silver Well (with golden sands)
I'll sit me down, and wash thine ivory hands. 120
And in the sweltEring heat of summer time,
I would make Cabinets for thee (my Love:)
Sweet.smelling Arbors made of Eglantine
Should be thy shrine, and I would be thy Dove.
Cool Cabinets of fresh green Laurel boughs 125
Should shadow us, o'erset with thick-set yews.
Or if thou list to bathe thy naked limbs,
Within the Crystal of a Pearl-bright brook,
Paved with dainty pibbles to the brims;
Or clear, wherein thyself thy self may'st look; 130
We'll go to Ladon, whose still trickling noise,
Will lull thee fast asleep amidst thy joys.
Or if thou'lt go unto the River side,
To angle for the sweet fresh-water fish
Armed with thy implements that will abide 135
(Thy rod, hook, line) to take a dainty dish;
Thy rods shall be of cane, thy lines of silk,
The hooks of silver, and thy baits of milk.
Or if thou lovest to hear sweet Melody,
Or pipe a Round upon an Oaten Reed, 140
Or make thy self glad with some mirthful glee,
Or play them Music whilst thy flock doth feed;
To Pan's own Pipe I'll help my lovely Lad,
(Pan's golden Pipe) which he of Syrinx had.
Or if thou darest to climb the highest Trees 145
For Apples, Cherries, Medlars, Pears, or Plums,
Nuts, Walnuts, Filberds, Chestnuts, Cervices,
The hoary Peach, when snowy winter comes;
I have fine Orchards full of mellowed fruit;
Which I will give thee to obtain my suit. 150
Not proud Alcinous himself can vaunt,
Of goodlier Orchards or of braver Trees
Than I have planted; yet thou wilt not grant
My simple suit; but like the honey Bees
Thou suckest the Sour till all the sweet be gone; 155
And lovest me for my Coin till I have none.
Leave Gwendolyn (sweet heart) though she be fair
Yet is she light; not light in virtue shining:
But light in her behavior, to impair
Her honor in her Chastity's declining; 160
Trust not her tears, for they can wantonize,
When tears in pearl are trickling from her eyes.
If thou wilt come and dwell with me at home;
My sheepcote shall be strowed with new green rushes
We'll haunt the trembling Prickets as they roam 165
About the fields, along the hawthorn bushes;
I have a piebald Cur to hunt the Hare:
So we will live with dainty forest fare.
Nay more than this, I have a Garden plot,
Wherein there wants nor herbs, nor roots, nor flowers; 170
(Flowers to smell, roots to eat, herbs for the pot,)
And dainty Shelters when the Welkin lowers
Sweet-smelling Beds of Lilies and of Roses,
Which Rosemary banks and Lavender encloses.
There grows the Gilliflower, the Mint, the Daisy 175
(Both red and white,) the blue-veined Violet
The purple Hyacinth, the Spike to please thee,
The scarlet dyed Carnation bleeding yet;
The Sage, the Savory, and sweet Marjoram,
Hyssop, Thyme, and Eye-bright, good for the blind and dumb. 180
The Pink, the Primrose, cowslip, and Daffadilly,
The Hare-bell blue, the crimson Columbine,
Sage, Lettuce, Parsley, and the milk-white Lily,
The Rose, and speckled flowEr called Sops in wine,
Fine pretty King-cups, and the yellow Boots, 185
That grows by Rivers, and by shallow Brooks.
And many thousand moe (I cannot name)
Of herbs and flowers that in gardens grow,
I have for thee; and Conies that be tame,
Young Rabbits, white as Swan, and black as Crow, 190
Some speckled here and there with dainty spots
And more I have two milch and milk-white Goats.
All these, and more, I'll give thee for thy love;
If these, and more, may 'tice thy love away:
I have a Pigeon-house, in it a Dove, 195
Which I love more than mortal tongue can say:
And last of all, I'll give thee a little Lamb
To play withal, new weaned from her Dam.
But if thou wilt not pity my Complaint,
My Tears, nor Vows, nor Oaths, made to thy Beauty: 200
What shall I do? But languish, die, or faint,
Since thou dost scorn my Tears, and my Soul's Duty:
And Tears contemned, Vows and Oaths must fail;
For where Tears cannot, nothing can prevail.
Compare the love of fair Queen Gwendolyn 205
With mine, and thou shalt see how she doth love thee:
I love thee for thy qualities divine,
But She doth love another Swain above thee
I love thee for thy gifts, She for her pleasure;
I for thy Virtue, She for Beauty's treasure. 210
And always (I am sure) it cannot last,
But sometime Nature will deny those dimples:
Instead of Beauty (when thy Blossom's past)
The face will be deformed, full of wrinkles
Then She that loved thee for thy Beauty's sake, 215
When Age draws on, thy love will soon forsake.
But I that loved thee for thy gifts divine,
In the December of thy Beauty's waning,
Will still admire (with joy) those lovely eyne,
That now behold me with their beauty's baning: 220
Though January will never come again,
Yet April years will come in showers of rain.
When will my May come, that I may embrace thee?
When will the hour be of my soul's joying?
Who dost thou seek in mirth still to disgrace me? 225
Whose mirth's my health, whose grief's my heart's annoying.
The bane my bale, thy bliss my blessedness,
Thy ill my hell, thy weal my welfare is.
Thus do I honor thee that love thee so,
And love thee so, that so do honor thee, 230
Much more than any mortal man doth know,
Or can discern by Love or Jealousy:
But if that thou disdainest my loving ever;
O happy I, if I had loved never.
THE SECOND DAY'S LAMENTATION OF THE AFFECTIONATE SHEPHERD
Next Morning when the golden Sun was risen,
And new had bid good morrow to the Mountains;
When Night her silver light had locked in prison,
Which gave a glimmering on the crystal Fountains
Then ended sleep: and then my cares began, 5
Even with the uprising of the silver Swan.
O glorious Sun quoth I, (viewing the Sun)
That lightenest every thing but me alone
Why is my Summer season almost done?
My Springtime past, and Age's Autumn gone? 10
My Harvest's come, and yet I reaped no corn
My love is great, and yet I am forlorn.
Witness these watEry eyes my sad lament
(Receiving cesterns of my ceaseless tears),
Witness my bleeding heart my soul's intent, 15
Witness the weight distressed Daphnis bears:
Sweet Love, come ease me of thy burthen's pain;
Or else I die, or else my heart is slain.
And thou love-scorning Boy, cruel, unkind;
O let me once again entreat some pity: 20
May be thou wilt relent thy marble mind,
And lend thine ears unto my doleful Ditty:
O pity him, that pity craves so sweetly;
Or else thou shalt be never named meekly.
If thou wilt love me, thou shalt be my Boy, 25
My sweet Delight, the Comfort of my mind,
My Love, my Dove, my Solace, and my Joy:
But if I can no grace nor mercy find,
I'll go to Caucasus to ease my smart,
And let a Vulture gnaw upon my heart. 30
Yet if thou wilt but show me one kind look
(A small reward for my so great affection)
I'll grave thy name in Beauty's golden Book,
And shroud thee under Helicon's protection;
Making the Muses chant thy lovely praise: 35
(For they delight in Shepherds' lowly lays.)
And when th' art weary of thy keeping Sheep
Upon a lovely Down, (to please thy mind)
I'll give thee fine ruff-footed Doves to keep,
And pretty Pigeons of another kind 40
A Robin redbreast shall thy Minstrel be,
Chirping thee sweet, and pleasant Melody.
Or if thou wilt go shoot at little Birds
With bow and bolt (the Throstle-cock and Sparrow)
Such as our Country hedges can afford's; 45
I have a fine bow, and an ivory arrow:
And if thou miss, yet meat thou shalt [not] lack,
I'll hang a bag and bottle at thy back.
Wilt thou set springes in a frosty Night,
To catch the long-billed Woodcock and the Snipe? 50
(By the bright glimmering of the Starry light)
The Partridge, Pheasant, or the greedy Gripe?
I'll lend thee lime-twigs, and fine sparrow calls,
Wherewith the Fowler silly Birds enthralls.
Or in a misty morning if thou wilt 55
Make pitfalls for the Lark and Pheldifare;
Thy prop and sweak shall be both over-gilt;
With Cyparissus' self thou shalt compare
For gins and wiles, the Ouzels to beguile;
Whilst thou under a bush shalt sit and smile. 60
Or with Hare-pipes (set in a musette hole)
Wilt thou deceive the deep-earth-delving Cony?
Or wilt thou in a yellow Boxen bowl
Taste with a wooden splint the sweet lithe honey?
Clusters of crimson Grapes I'll pull thee down; 65
And with Vine-leaves make thee a lovely Crown.
Or wilt thou drink a cup of new-made Wine
Frothing at top, mixed with a dish of Cream;
And Strawberries, or Bilberries in their prime,
Bathed in a melting Sugar-Candy stream 70
Bunnell and Perry I have for thee (alone)
When Vines are dead, and all the Grapes are gone.
I have a pleasant noted Nightingale,
(That sings as sweetly as the silver Swan)
Kept in a Cage of bone; as white as Whale, 75
Which I with singing of Philemon wan
Her shalt thou have, and all I have beside;
If thou wilt be my Boy, or else my Bride.
Then will I lay out all my Lardary
(Of Cheese, of Cracknels, Curds and Clotted cream) 80
Before thy malcontent ill-pleasing eye
But why do I of such great follies dream?
Alas, he will not see my simple Coat;
For all my speckled Lamb, nor milk-white Goat.
Against my Birthday thou shalt be my guest 85
We'll have Green cheeses and fine Syllabubs;
And thou shalt be the chief of all my feast.
And I will give thee two fine pretty Cubs,
With two young Whelps, to make thee sport withal,
A golden Racket, and a Tennis ball. 90
A gilded Nutmeg, and a race of Ginger,
A silken Girdle, and a drawn-work Band,
Cuffs for thy wrists, a gold Ring for thy finger,
And sweet Rose-water for thy Lily-white hand,
A Purse of silk, bespanged with spots of gold, 95
As brave a one as ere thou didst behold.
A pair of Knives, a green Hat and a Feather,
New Gloves to put upon thy milk-white hand
I'll give thee, for to keep thee from the weather;
With Phoenix feathers shall thy Face be fanned, 100
Cooling those Cheeks, that being cooled wax red,
Like Lilies in a bed of Roses shed.
Why do thy Coral lips disdain to kiss,
And suck that Sweet, which many have desired?
That Balm my Bane, that means would mend my miss 105
O let me then with thy sweet Lips b' inspired;
When thy Lips touch my Lips, my Lips will turn
To Coral too, and being cold ice will burn.
Who should thy sweet Love-lock hang dangling down,
Kissing thy girdle-stead with falling pride? 110
Although thy Skin be white, thy hair is brown
O let not then thy hair thy beauty hide;
Cut off thy Lock, and sell it for gold wire
(The purest gold is tried in hottest fire).
Fair long-hair-wearing Absalom was killed, 115
Because he wore it in a bravery:
So that which graced his Beauty, Beauty spilled,
Making him subject to vile slavery,
In being hanged: a death for him too good,
That sought his own shame, and his Father's blood. 120
Again, we read of old King Priamus,
(The hapless sire of valiant Hector slain)
That his hair was so long and odious
In youth, that in his age it bred his pain
For if his hair had not been half so long, 125
His life had been, and he had had no wrong.
For when his stately City was destroyed
(That Monument of great Antiquity)
When his poor heart with grief and sorrow cloyed)
Fled to his Wife (last hope in misery;) 130
Pyrrhus (more hard than Adamantine rocks)
Held him and hauled him by his aged locks.
These two examples by the way I show,
To prove th' indecency of men's long hair
Though I could tell thee of a thousand moe, 135
Let these suffice for thee (my lovely Fair)
Whose eye's my star; whose smiling is my Sun;
Whose love did end before my joys begun.
Fond Love is blind, and so art thou (my Dear)
For thou seest not my Love, and great desert; 140
Blind Love is fond, and so thou dost appear;
For fond, and blind, thou grievest my grieving heart
Be thou fond-blind, blind-fond, or one, or all,
Thou art my Love, and I must be thy thrall.
O lend thine ivory forehead for Love's Book, 145
Thine eyes for candles to behold the same;
That when dim-sighted ones therein shall look
They may discern that proud disdainful Dame;
Yet clasp that Book, and shut that Clement light;
Lest th' one obscured, the other shine too bright. 150
Sell thy sweet breath to th' dainty Muskball-makers;
Yet sell it so as thou may'st soon redeem it:
Let others of thy beauty be partakers;
Else none but Daphnis will so well esteem it
For what is Beauty except it be well known? 155
And how can it be known, except first shown?
Learn of the Gentlewomen of this Age,
That set their Beauties to the open view,
Making Disdain their Lord, true Love their Page;
A Custom Zeal doth hate, Desert doth rue: 160
Learn to look red, anon wax pale and wan,
Making a mock of Love, a scorn of man.
A candle light, and covered with a veil,
Doth no man good, because it gives no light;
So Beauty of her beauty seems to,fail, 165
When being not seen it cannot shine so bright.
Then show thy self and know thy self withal,
Lest climbing high thou catch too great a fall.
O foul Eclipser of that fair sunshine,
Which is entitled Beauty in the best; 170
Making that mortal, which is else divine,
That stains the fair which Women's 'steem not least
Get thee to Hell again (from whence thou art)
And leave the Center of a Woman's heart.
Ah be not stained, (sweet Boy) with this vild spot, 175
Indulgence Daughter, Mother of mischance;
A blemish that doth every beauty blot;
That makes them loathed, but never doth advance
Her Clients, fautors, friends; or them that love her;
And hates them most of all, that most reprove her. 180
Remember Age, and thou canst not be proud,
For age pulls down the pride of every man;
In youthful years by Nature 'tis allowed
To have self-will, do Nurture what she can;
Nature and Nurture once together met, 185
The Soul and shape in decent order set.
Pride looks aloft, still staring on the stars,
Humility looks lowly on the ground;
Th' one menaceth the Gods with civil wars,
The other toils till he have Virtue found: 190
His thoughts are humble, not aspiring high;
But Pride looks haughtily with scornful eye.
Humility is clad in modest weeds,
But Pride is brave and glorious to the show;
Humility his friends with kindness feeds, 195
But Pride his friends (in need) will never know:
Supplying not their wants, but them disdaining;
Whilst they to pity never need complaining.
Humility in misery is relieved,
But Pride in need of no man is regarded; 200
Pity and Mercy weep to see him grieved
That in distress had them so well rewarded
But Pride is scorned, contemned, disdained, derided,
Whilst Humbleness of all things is provided.
O then be humble, gentle, meek, and mild; 205
So shalt thou be of every mouth commended;
Be not disdainful, cruel, proud, (sweet child)
So shalt thou be of no man much condemned;
Care not for them that Virtue do despise;
Virtue is loathed of fools; loved of the wise. 210
O fair Boy trust not to thy Beauty's wings,
They cannot carry thee above the Sun
Beauty and wealth are transitory things,
(For all must end that ever was begun)
But Fame and Virtue never shall decay; 215
For Fame is tombless, Virtue lives for aye.
The snow is white, and yet the pepper's black,
The one is bought, the other is contemned
Pibbles we have, but store of jet we lack;
So white compared to black is much condemned 220
We do not praise the Swan because she's white,
But for she doth in Music much delight.
And yet the silver-noted Nightingale,
Though she be not so white is more esteemed;
Sturgeon is dun of hue, white is the Whale, 225
Yet for the daintier Dish the first is deemed;
What thing is whiter than the milk-bred Lily?
Thou knows it not for naught, what man so silly?
Yea what more noisomer unto the smell
Than Lilies are? what's sweeter than the Sage? 230
Yet for pure white the Lily bears the Bell
Till it be faded through decaying Age;
House-Doves are white, and Ouzels Blackbirds be;
Yet what a difference in the taste, we see.
Compare the Cow and Calf, with Ewe and Lamb; 235
Rough hairy Hides, with softest downy Fell;
Heifer and Bull, with Wether and with Ram,
And you shall see how far they do excel;
White Kine with black, black Cony-skins with grey,
Kine, nesh and strong; skin, dear and cheap alway. 240
The whitest silver is not always best,
Lead, Tin, and Pewter are of base esteem;
The yellow burnished gold, that comes from th' East,
And West (of late invented), may beseem
The worlds rich Treasury, or Midas' eye; 245
(The Rich mans God, poor mans felicity.)
Bugle and Jet, with snow and Alablaster
I will compare: White Damascene with black;
Bullas and wheaten Plums, (to a good Taster,)
The ripe red Cherries have the sweetest smack; 250
When they be green and young, th' are sour and naught;
But being ripe, with eagerness th' are bought.
Compare the Wildcat to the brownish Beaver,
Running for life, with hounds pursued sore;
When Huntsmen of her precious Stones bereave her 255
(Which with her teeth sh' had bitten off before)
Restoratives, and costly curious Felts
Are made of them, and rich embroidered Belts.
To what use serves a piece of crumbling Chalk?
The Agate stone is white, yet good for nothing: 260
Fie, fie, I am ashamed to hear thee talk?
Be not so much of thine own Image doting:
So fair Narcissus lost his love and life.
(Beauty is often with itself at strife).
Right Diamonds are of a russet hue, 265
The brightsome Carbuncles are red to see too,
The Sapphire stone is of a watchet blue,
(To this thou canst not choose but soon agree too):
Pearls are not white but grey, Rubies are red:
In praise of Black, what can be better said? 270
For if we do consider of each mortal thing
That flies in welkin, or in waters swims,
How every thing increaseth with the Spring,
And how the blacker still the brighter dims:
We cannot choose, but needs we must confess, 275
Sable excels milk-white in more or less.
As for example, in the crystal clear
Of a sweet stream, or pleasant running River,
Where thousand forms of fishes will appear,
(Whose names to thee I cannot now deliver:) 280
The blacker still the brighter have disgraced,
For pleasant profit, and delicious taste.
Salmon and Trout are of a ruddy color,
Whiting and Dare is of a milk-white hue:
Nature by them (perhaps) is made the fuller, 285
Little they nourish, be they old or new:
Carp, Loach, Tench, Eels (though black and bred in mud)
Delight the tooth with taste, and breed good blood.
Innumerable be the kinds, if I could name them;
But I a Shepherd, and no Fisher am 290
Little it skills whether I praise or blame them,
I only meddle with my Ewe and Lamb
Yet this I say, that black the better is,
In birds, beasts, fruit, stones, flowers, herbs, metals, fish.
And last of all, in black there doth appear 295
Such qualities, as not in ivory;
Black cannot blush for shame, look pale for fear,
Scorning to wear another livery.
Black is the badge of sober Modesty,
The wonted wear of ancient Gravity. 300
The learned Sisters suit themselves in black,
Learning abandons white, and lighter hues:
Pleasure and, Pride light colors never lack;
But true Religion doth such Toys refuse:
Virtue and Gravity are sisters grown, 305
Since black by both, and both by black are known.
White is the color of each paltry Miller,
White is the Ensign of each common Woman;
White, is white Virtue's for black Vice's Pillar;
White makes proud fools inferior unto no man: 310
White, is the white of Body, black of Mind,
(Virtue we seldom in white Habit find.)
O then be not so proud because th' art fair,
Virtue is only the rich gift of God:
Let not self-pride thy virtue's name impair, 315
Beat not green youth with sharp Repentance Rod:
(A Fiend, a Monster, and misshapen Devil;
Virtue's foe, Vice's friend, the root of evil.)
Apply thy mind to be a virtuous man,
Avoid ill company (the spoil of youth;) 320
To follow Virtue's Lore do what thou can
(Whereby great profit unto thee ensueth:)
Read Books, hate Ignorance, (the foe to Art,
The Dam of Error, Envy of the heart).
Serve Jove (upon thy knees) both day and night, 325
Adore his Name above all things on Earth
So shall thy vows be gracious in his sight,
So little Babes are blessed in their Birth
Think on no worldly woe, lament thy sin;
(For lesser cease, when greater griefs begin). 330
Swear no vain oaths; hear much, but little say;
Speak ill of no man, tend thine own affairs,
Bridle thy wrath, thine angry mood delay;
(So shall thy mind be seldom cloyed with cares:)
Be mild and gentle in thy speech to all, 335
Refuse no honest gain when it doth fall.
Be not beguiled with words, prove not ungrateful,
Relieve thy Neighbor in his greatest need,
Commit no action that to all is hateful,
Their want with wealth, the poor with plenty feed: 340
Twit no man in the teeth with what th' hast done;
Remember flesh is frail, and hatred shun.
Leave wicked things, which Men to mischief move,
(Least cross mishap may thee in danger bring,)
Crave no preferment of thy heavenly Jove, 345
Nor any honor of thy earthly King:
Boast not thy self before th' Almighty's sight,
(Who knows thy heart, and any wicked wight).
Be not offensive to the people's eye,
See that thy prayers hearts true zeal affords, 350
Scorn not a man that's fallen in misery,
Esteem no tattling tales, nor babbling words;
That reason is exiled always think,
When as a drunkard rails amidst his drink.
Use not thy lovely lips to loathsome lies, 355
By crafty means increase no worldly wealth
Strive not with mighty Men (whose fortune flies)
With tempErate diet nourish wholesome health
Place well thy words, leave not thy friend for gold;
First try, then trust; in ventUring be not bold. 360
In Pan repose thy trust; extol his praise
(That never shall decay, but ever lives):
Honor thy Parents (to prolong thy days),
Let not thy left hand know what right hand gives:
From needy men turn not thy face away, 365
(Though Charity be now y-clad in clay).
Hear Shepherds oft (thereby great wisdom grows),
With good advice a sober answer make
Be not removed with every wind that blows,
(That course do only sinful sinners take). 370
The talk will show thy fame or else thy shame;
(As prattling tongue doth often purchase blame).
Obtain a faithful friend that will not fail thee,
Think on thy Mother's pain in her child-bearing,
Make no debate, lest quickly thou bewail thee, 375
Visit the sick with comfortable cheering:
Pity the prisoner, help the fatherless,
Revenge the Widow's wrongs in her distress.
Think on thy grave, remember still thy end,
Let not thy winding sheet be stained with guilt, 380
Trust not a feigned reconciled friend
More than an open foe (that blood hath spilt)
(Who toucheth pitch, with pitch shall be defiled),
Be not with wanton company beguiled.
Take not a flattering woman to thy wife, 385
A shameless creature, full of wanton words,
(Whose bad, thy good; whose lust will end thy life,
Cutting thy heart with sharp two edged swords:)
Cast not thy mind on her whose looks allure,
But she that shines in Truth and Virtue pure. 390
Praise not thy self, let other men commend thee;
Bear not a flattering tongue to glaver any,
Let Parents' due correction not offend thee
Rob not thy neighbor, seek the love of many;
Hate not to hear good Counsel given thee, 395
Lay not thy money unto Usury.
Restrain thy steps from too much liberty,
Fulfill not th' envious mans malicious mind;
Embrace thy Wife, live not in lechery;
Content thyself with what Fates have assigned: 400
Be ruled by Reason, Warning dangers save;
True Age is reverend worship to thy grave.
Be patient in extreme Adversity,
(Man's chiefest credit grows by doing well,)
Be not high-minded in Prosperity; 405
Falsehood abhor, nor lying fable tell.
Give not thy self to Sloth, the sink of Shame,
The moth of Time, the enemy to Fame--
--This lore I learned of a Beldam Trot,
(When I was young and wild as now thou art) 410
But her good counsel I regarded not;
I marked it with my ears, not with my heart
But now I find it too-too true (my Son),
When my Age-withered Spring is almost done.
Behold my grey head, full of silver hairs, 415
My wrinkled skin, deep furrows in my face:
Cares bring Old Age, Old Age increaseth cares;
My Time is come, and I have run my Race
Winter hath snowed upon my hoary head,
And with my Winter all my joys are dead. 420
And thou love-hating Boy, (whom once I loved),
Farewell, a thousand-thousand times farewell;
My Tears the Marble Stones to ruth have moved;
My sad Complaints the babbling Echoes tell
And yet thou wouldst take no compassion on me, 425
Scorning that cross which Love hath laid upon me.
The hardest steel with fire doth mend his miss,
Marble is mollified with drops of Rain;
But thou (more hard than Steel or Marble is)
Dost scorn my Tears, and my true love disdain, 430
Which for thy sake shall everlasting be,
Wrote in the Annals of Eternity.
By this, the Night (with darkness over-spread)
Had drawn the curtains of her coal-black bed;
And Cynthia muffling her face with a cloud, 435
(Lest all the world of her should be too proud)
Had taken Conge of the sable Night,
(That wanting her cannot be half so bright;)
When I poor forlorn man and outcast creature
(Despairing of my Love, despised of Beauty) 440
Grew malcontent, scorning his lovely feature,
That had disdained my ever-zealous duty:
I hied me homeward by the Moonshine light;
Forswearing Love, and all his fond delight.
FINIS.
===============================================
William Burton, trans.
["On the Love of Boys and Women."] Edited from Achilles Tatius, The History of Clitiphon and Leucippe, trans. W. B. (London, 1597), sigs. G2r-G3v.
When I saw Menelaus very sad by the remembrance of his griefs, and Clinias also weeping for the death of his Charicles, being desirous to wipe away both their sorrows, I began a discourse mingled with an amorous delight (for Leucippe was then absent, who immediately before went into a more close place of the ship to take a nap); and turning myself to them, I smiled. "Clinias," said I, "for the most part in argument overcometh me, and even now &emdash; for he desireth to inveigh against women, as his manner is &emdash; he may do it the better, because he hath found a like companion of his love: what is the cause why so many are in love with boys? Surely I myself cannot tell, neither see any cause why."
Then answered Menelaus, "What? Is it not, I pray you, better than the love of women? Boys are more perfect than women and their beauty is of more force to delight the senses with pleasure."
"But I pray you," quoth I, "how is it more vehement? What, for because as soon as it appeareth, it is gone again, neither giveth any possibility for the lover to enjoy it. But it is like to Tantalus in the river Styx, that when he would drink of the water it flieth away from him. Neither is there any sustenance left for him to receive, and that also which is drunk is first taken away before that he which drinketh can be satisfied. Evermore he must depart so from his lover, as if there had been never no such love, or else but new began, and the pleasure is mingled with a kind of sorrow, and he is ever dry but his thirst can never be quenched."
Then said Menelaus, "But you, Clitiphon, do not seem to know which is the chiefest felicity in love! That alway is most to be wished for which bringeth no loathsomeness and wherewith one is never satisfied, for those things which remain the longer to us for to enjoy them do take away the delight thereof with too much satiety &emdash; but those things which sometimes are taken away are alway new and do daily flourish, and as much as is taken away from them by the shortness of time, so much is added to the greatness of the desire, and their pleasure doth not fade. And wherefore is the rose accounted the fairest of all plants, but because it soonest doth fade away? Surely, I do think that there is two kinds of beauty which is amongst mortal men, the one heavenly, the other common, which indeed are the very givers of all beauty. And the heavenly beauty scorneth to be joined with our mortal and therefore striveth to fly up to heaven. The common beauty creepeth on the ground and cleave[s] to every base body. And if you will that I shall bring you a witness for this which I have said, mark you the poet Homer, whose verses are these:
The gods, incensèd with beauty of this boy,
To heaven him brought to serve great Jove above,
In filling of sweet nectar and ambrosian wine,
Who can deny but that the cause was love?
Never was there woman for beauty brought up to heaven, although Jupiter loved women well. Alcmena fell into lamentations and was constrained to hide herself. The tower and the sea kept Diana prisoner. Semele was consumed by fire. But when he fell in love with this Phrygian boy Ganymedes, he took him up to heaven with him, that he might dwell together with him and serve him at his table &emdash; and cast Helle down from heaven which did supply the place before, for she was a woman."
But I, taking his words out of his mouth, thus replied: "Nay," quoth I, "womankind seem to be most heavenly, and that for a strong reason, because their beauty doth not so quickly fade. That cometh next unto heavenliness which is farthest from corruption; and contrary, that ought not to be called heavenly but earthly which is most subject to alteration, because it is most like to men’s nature. Jupiter loved this Phrygian boy and took him up to heaven. What then? This dotth not detract anything from women’s beauty! For a woman’s love he transformed himself into a bull; so he did not for the love of him. For the love of Leda, he changed himself into a swan, and oftentimes did he take the shape of a Satyr, gold, and many suchlike things. But let Ganymedes fill the cup for Jupiter while Juno lie with the gods, since the goddess hath a boy to be her cupbearer! It pitieth me truly to hear or think how he was carried up to heaven: a ravenous bird snatched him away, and he was no otherwise dealt withal than those who fall into the hands of a tyrant. Was it not, I pray you, a grief to see a boy catched up in the talents of such a bird, his head hanging down as if he were now ready to fall? Such a carrion devouring bird did not carry Semele to heaven, but the fire, which is the chiefest of the element. And let not this seem strange unto you that some have been taken up to heaven in flames of fire, for Hercules went no otherwise to heaven. Do you laugh at Danae’s imprisonment in the tower and her servitude at the rock? I pray you, remember Perseus. This one thing satisfied Alcmena, that Jupiter for her sake took three whole days from the world. But if, omitting these fables, you will make mention of that true pleasure which is conceived in women (although herein I have not been much conversant &emdash; but one who hath experience in these matters may speak more if he please &emdash; neither hath there been any use or delight wherewith I have enured myself, yet I will speak as much as I can) their bodies are tender to embrace, their lips soft for to kiss whose whole proportion of the body is only made to move delight. And he which doth enjoy a beautiful woman hath the true felicity of all pleasure, for he doth imprint in her lips as they who seal in wax. She also doth kiss as it were by art, seasoning her kisses with a sweeter delight. Neither is it sufficient to kiss her lips, but also to feed as it were upon her mouth. In touching of her tender breasts, what great delight there is I leave to them whom experience hath made perfect herein. And even in their natural actions, she doth so delight as that he might think himself in another world. The kisses of boys are rude, their embracings unapt and unnatural, whose delight doth languish and is void of all true pleasure indeed."
Then said Menelaus, "You seem not to be a novice in this art, but one who have served in Cupid his wars a long time, you have reckoned up so many curiosities of women! But now mark you me again, and I will show you what pleasure is reaped in the love of boys. In a woman, not only her words but also all her actions are full of subtlety. If some be fair, they may thank the painter’s shop, all whose beauty is compacted of nothing else than of painting, coloring, and curling their hair. And in kissing from whom, take away this painting and counterfeiting of colors, and truly, you will think them barer than a jay (as the proverb is) when all his stol’n feathers are plucked from his back. But the beauty of boys is not besmeared with the countefeit of painting, neither sponged up with borrowed perfumes. The very sweat of the brows of a boy doth excel all the sweet savors of musk and civet about a woman! And a man may openly talk, and play with them, and never be ashamed. Neither is there any tenderness of flesh which is like to them. Their kisses do not savor of women’s curiosity, neither beguile with a foolish error. The kisses of them are sweet and delightful, not proceeding of art but of nature, and the very image and picture of their kisses are so sweet and pleasant that you might very well think that heavenly nectar to be between your lips."
================================================
Anon. From The Jests of George Peele (London, 1597)
How George [Peele] Read a Playbook to a Gentleman
There was a gentleman whom God had indewed with good living to maintain his small wit: he was not a fool absolute, although in this world he had good fortune; and he was, in a manner, an ingle to George, one that took great delight to have the first hearing of any work that George had done (himself being a writer, and had a poetical invention of his own); which, when he had with great labor finished, their fatal end was for privy purposes.
This self-conceited brock had George invenied to half a score sheets of paper &emdash; whose Christianly pen had writ "Finis" to the famous play of The Turkish Mahomet and Hiren the Fair Greek (in the Italian, called a courtesan, in Spain a margarite, in French une [putain], in England, among the barbarous, a whore; but among the gentle, their usual associates, a punk; but now the word refined &emdash; being latest, and the authority brought from a climate as yet unconquered, the fruitful county of Kent, they call them crosshabile &emdash; is a word but lately used, and fitting with their trade, being of a lovely and courteous condition). Leaving them: this fantastic, whose brain was made of naught but cork and sponge, came to the cold lodging of Monsieur Peele in his black satin suit, his gown furred with cony, in his slippers. Being in the evening, he thought to hear George’s book and so to return to his Inn (this not of the wisest, being of Saint Barnard’s). George bids him welcome, told him he would gladly have his opinion in his book.
He willingly condescended, and George begins to read &emdash; and between every scene he would make pauses, and demand his opinion how he liked the carriage of it. Quoth he, "Wondrous well, the conveyance!"
"Oh, but," quoth George, "the end is far better" (for he meant another "conveyance" ere they two departed).
George was very tedious in reading, and the night grew old. "I protest," quoth the gentleman, "I have stayed overlong! I fear me I shall hardly get into mine Inn."
"If you fear that," quoth George, "we will have a clean pair of sheets, and you shall take a simple lodging here."
This house-gull willingly embraced it, and to bed they go &emdash; where George, in the midst of the night spying his time, put on this dormouse his clothes, desired God to keep him in good rest, honestly takes leave of him and the house (to whom he was indebted four nobles). When this drone awaked and found himself so left, he had not the wit to be angry, but swore scurvily at his misfortune and said, "I thought he would not have used me so!" And although it so pleased the Fates he had another suit to put on, yet he could not get thence till he had paid the money George ought to the house, which (for his credit) he did. And when he came to his lodging, in anger he made a poem of it:
Peele is no poet, but a gull and a clown,
To take away my clothes and gown.
I vow by Jove, if I can see him wear it,
I’ll give him a glyg, and patiently bear it.
(1597)
======================================================
Richard Barnfield, Cynthia (1598)
Four years after publication of The Affectionate Shepherd, Barnfield published his Cynthia, which opens with a letter of dedication to William Stanley, early of Derby, followed by a preface to the general reader in which Barnfield denies having any other intent, in his praise of Ganymede, than to imitate the classical poet Theocritus:
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE, AND MOST NOBLE-MINDED LORD, WILLIAM STANLEY, EARL OF DARBY, ETC.
Right honorable,
The dutiful affection I bear to your many virtues, is cause, that to manifest my love to your lordship, I am constrained to shew my simpleness to the world. Many are they that admire your worth, of the which number, I (though the meanest in ability, yet with the foremost in affection) am one that most desire to serve, and only to serve your honor.
Small is the gift, but great is my goodwill; the which, by how much the less I am able to express it, by so much the more it is infinity. Live long: and inherit your predecessor's virtues, as you do their dignity and estate. This is my wish: the which your honorable excellent gifts do promise me to obtain: and whereof these few rude and unpolished lines, are a true (though an undeserving) testimony. If my ability were better, the signs should be greater; but being as it is, your honor must take me as I am, not as I should be. My years being so young, my perfection cannot be great: but howsoever it is, yours it is; and I myself am yours; in all humble service, most ready to be commanded.
Richard Barnfield.
To the courteous Gentlemen Readers.
Gentlemen:
The last term there came forth a little toy of mine, intitled, The Affectionate Shepherd: in the which, his country content found such friendly favor, that it hath encouraged me to publish my second fruits. The Affectionate Shepherd being the first: howsoever undeservedly (I protest) I have been thought (of some) to have been the author of two books heretofore. I need not to name them, because they are too-well known already: nor will I deny them, because athey are disliked; but because they are not mine. This protestation (I hope) will satisfy th' indifferent: as for them that are maliciously envious, as I cannot, so I care not to please. Some there were, that did interpret The Affectionate Shepherd, otherwise then (in truth) I meant, touching the subject thereof, to wit, the love of a shepherd to a boy; a fault, the which I will not excuse, because I never made. Only this, I will unshadow my conceit: being nothing else, but an imitation of Virgil, in the second Eclogue of Alexis. In one or two places (in this book) I use the name of Eliza pastorally: wherein, lest any one should misconstue my meaning (as I hope none will) I have here briefly discovered my harmless conceit as concerning that name: whereof once (in a simple shepherd's device) I wrote this epigram.
To this for beauty: fairest on the earth.
Thus, hoping you will bear with my rude conceit of Cynthia, (if for no other cause, yet, for that it is the first imitation of the verse of that excellent poet, Master Spenser, in his Faery Queen) I leave you to the reading of that, which I so much desire may breed your delight.
Richard Barnfield.
After tipping his cap to Queen Elizabeth with a poem called "Cynthia," Barnfield drops her and launches again into hyperbolic praise of Ganymede. A few representative examples:
SONNET 1
Sporting at fancy, setting light by love,
There came a thief and stole away my heart
(And therefore robbed me of my chiefest part).
Yet cannot Reason him a felon prove.
For why, his beauty (my heart's thief) affirmeth: 5
Piercing no skin (the body's fensive wall)
And having leave and free consent withal,
Himself "Not guilty" ([but] love, "guilty" termeth),
Conscience the Judge; twelve reasons are the Jury.
They find mine eyes the beauty t' have let in-- 10
And on this verdict given, agreed they been.
Wherefore, because his beauty did allure ye,
Your doom is this: in tears still to be drowned,
When his fair forehead with disdain is frowned.
SONNET 4
Two stars there are in one fair firmament,
(Of some entitled Ganymede's sweet face),
Which other stars in brightness do disgrace,
As much as Po in clearness passeth Trent.
Nor are they common natured stars: for why, 5
These stars when other shine veil their pure light,
And when all other vanish out of sight,
They add a glory to the worlds great eye.
By these two stars my life is only led,
In them I place my joy, in them my pleasure, 10
Love's piercing Darts, and Nature's precious treasure
With their sweet food my fainting soul is fed:
Then when my sun is absent from my sight
How can it choose (with me) but be dark night?
SONNET 5
It is reported of fair Thetis' Son,
(Achilles famous for his chivalry,
His noble mind and magnanimity,)
That when the Troyan wars were new begun,
Whos'ever was deep-wounded with his spear, 5
Could never be recured of his maim,
Nor ever after be made whole again:
Except with that spear's rust he holpen were.
Even so it fareth with my fortune now,
Who being wounded with his piercing eye, 10
Must either thereby find a remedy,
Or else to be relieved, I know not how.
Then if thou hast a mind still to annoy me,
Kill me with kisses, if thou wilt destroy me.
SONNET 6
Sweet Coral lips, where Nature's treasure lies,
The balm of bliss, the sovereign salve of sorrow,
The secret touch of love's heart-burning arrow,
Come quench my thirst or else poor Daphnis dies.
One night I dreamed (alas 'twas but a Dream) 5
That I did feel the Sweetness of the same,
Wherewith inspired, I young again became,
And from my heart a spring of blood did stream,
But when I waked, I found it nothing so,
Save that my limbs (me thought) did wax more strong 10
And I more lusty far, and far more young.
This gift on him rich Nature did bestow.
Then if in dreaming so, I so did speed,
What should I do, if I did so indeed?
SONNET 7
Sweet Thames I honor thee, not for thou art
The chiefest River of the fairest Isle,
Nor for thou dost admirers' eyes beguile,
But for thou holdest the keeper of my heart,
For on thy waves, (thy Crystal-billowed waves,) 5
My fairest fair, my silver Swan is swimming:
Against the sun his pruned feathers trimming:
Whilst Neptune his fair feet with water laves,
Neptune, I fear not thee, not yet thine eye,
And yet (alas) Apollo loved a boy, 10
And Cyparissus was Silvanus' joy.
No, no, I fear none but fair Thetis, I,
For if she spy my Love, (alas) ay me,
My mirth is turned to extreme misery.
SONNET 8
Sometimes I wish that I his pillow were,
So might I steal a kiss and yet not seen,
So might I gaze upon his sleeping eyen
Although I did it with a panting fear.
But when I well consider how vain my wish is,
Ah, foolish bees (think I), that do not suck
His lips for honey, but poor flowers do pluck
Which have no sweet in them&endash;when his sole kisses
Are able to revive a dying soul!
Kiss him, but sting him not, for if you do,
His angry voice your flying will pursue.
But when they hear his tongue, what can control
Their back-return? for then they plain may see,
How honeycombs from his lips dropping be.
SONNET 10
Thus was my love, thus was my Ganymed,
(Heaven's joy, world's wonder, nature's fairest work,
In whose aspect Hope and Despair do lurk)
Made of pure blood in whitest snow y-shed,
And for sweet Venus only formed his face, 5
And his each member delicately framed,
And last of all fair Ganymede him named,
His limbs (as their Creatrix) her embrace.
But as for his pure, spotless, virtuous mind,
Because it sprung of chaste Diana's blood, 10
(Goddess of maids, directress of all good,)
Hit wholly is to chastity inclined.
And thus it is: as far as I can prove,
He loves to be beloved, but not to love.
SONNET 11
Sighing, and sadly sitting by my Love,
He asked the cause of my heart's sorrowing,
Conjuring me by heavens eternal King
To tell the cause which me so much did move.
Compelled (quoth I) to thee will I confess, 5
Love is the cause; and only love it is
That doth deprive me of my heavenly bliss.
Love is the pain that doth my heart oppress.
And what is she (quoth he) whom thou dost love?
Look in this glass (quoth I) there shalt thou see 10
The perfect form of my felicity.
When, thinking that it would strange Magic prove,
He opened it: and taking of the cover,
He straight perceived himself to be my Lover.
SONNET 17
Cherry-lipped Adonis in his snowy shape,
Might not compare with his pure Ivory white,
On whose fair front a Poet's pen may write,
Whose roseate red excels the crimson grape,
His love-enticing delicate soft limbs, 5
Are rarely framed t' entrap poor gazing eyes:
His cheeks, the lily and carnation dyes,
With lovely tincture which Apollo's dims.
His lips ripe strawberries in Nectar wet,
His mouth a Hive, his tongue a honeycomb, 10
Where Muses (like Bees) make their mansion.
His teeth pure Pearl in blushing Coral set.
O how can such a body sin-procuring,
Be slow to love, and quick to hate, enduring?
======================================================
=====================================================
W. Shakespeare As You Like It (1599; pub. 1623)
This Etext file is presented by Project Gutenberg, in cooperation with World Library, Inc., from their Library of the Future and Shakespeare CDROMS. It may not be sold or used for profit.
Selections from As You Like It
Banished from court by her evil Uncle Frederick, Rosalind flies to the Forest of Arden, where her virtuous father ("Duke Senior") and loyal followers (already banished) are camped out. Celia (Frederick's daughter, Rosalind's cousin and best friend), runs away, too, so that they can be together. Posing as brother and sister, "Ganymede" (Rosalind) and "Aliena" (Celia) head for the forest. A few extracts:
CELIA. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.
FREDERICK. Ay, Celia; we stay'd her for your sake,
Else had she with her father rang'd along.
CELIA. I did not then entreat to have her stay;
It was your pleasure, and your own remorse;
I was too young that time to value her,
But now I know her. If she be a traitor,
Why so am I: we still have slept together,
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together;
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,
Still we went coupled and inseparable.
FREDERICK. She is too subtle for thee; and her smoothness,
Her very silence and her patience,
Speak to the people, and they pity her.
Thou art a fool. She robs thee of thy name;
And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous
When she is gone. Then open not thy lips.
Firm and irrevocable is my doom
Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd.
CELIA. Pronounce that sentence, then, on me, my liege;
I cannot live out of her company.
FREDERICK. You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself.
If you outstay the time, upon mine honour,
And in the greatness of my word, you die.
Exeunt DUKE and LORDS
CELIA. O my poor Rosalind! Whither wilt thou go?
Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine.
I charge thee be not thou more griev'd than I am.
ROSALIND. I have more cause.
CELIA. Thou hast not, cousin.
Prithee be cheerful. Know'st thou not the Duke
Hath banish'd me, his daughter?
ROSALIND. That he hath not.
CELIA. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks, then, the love
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one.
Shall we be sund'red? Shall we part, sweet girl?
No; let my father seek another heir.
Therefore devise with me how we may fly,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us;
And do not seek to take your charge upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.
ROSALIND. Why, whither shall we go?
CELIA. To seek my uncle in the Forest of Arden.
ROSALIND. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
CELIA. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire,
And with a kind of umber smirch my face;
The like do you; so shall we pass along,
And never stir assailants.
ROSALIND. Were it not better,
Because that I am more than common tall,
That I did suit me all points like a man?
A gallant curtle-axe upon my thigh,
A boar spear in my hand; and- in my heart
Lie there what hidden woman's fear there will-
We'll have a swashing and a martial outside,
As many other mannish cowards have
That do outface it with their semblances.
CELIA. What shall I call thee when thou art a man?
ROSALIND. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's own page,
And therefore look you call me Ganymede.
But what will you be call'd?
CELIA. Something that hath a reference to my state:
No longer Celia, but Aliena.
ROSALIND. But, cousin, what if we assay'd to steal
The clownish fool out of your father's court?
Would he not be a comfort to our travel?
CELIA. He'll go along o'er the wide world with me;
Leave me alone to woo him. Let's away,
And get our jewels and our wealth together;
Devise the fittest time and safest way
To hide us from pursuit that will be made
After my flight. Now go we in content
To liberty, and not to banishment. Exeunt
Celia adores Rosalind who adores Orlando. In the forest, dressed as a boy, Rosalind bumps into Orlando, sighing out his heart for Rosalind. When he sees his true love, Orlando does not recognize her because she looks like a boy. Rosalind-Ganymede puts Orlando's love to the test: he must pretend that she, "Ganymede," is really Rosalind, and woo her while she plays the coy maid. Thus it falls out that the boy-actor playing Orlando pours out his love to the boy-actor who's playing the girl Rosalind who's playing the boy Ganymede who's pretending to be the girl Rosalind.
Orlando is skipping about the Forest of Arden tacking love sonnets to trees and sighing for his Rosalind. The clown, Touchstone, makes fun of Orlando's pretensions as a poet by spouting off impromptu rhyming bawdy lines on Orlando's theme:
CORIN. Here comes young Master Ganymede, my new mistress's brother.
Enter ROSALIND, reading a paper
ROSALIND. 'From the east to western Inde,
No jewel is like Rosalinde.
Her worth, being mounted on the wind,
Through all the world bears Rosalinde.
All the pictures fairest lin'd
Are but black to Rosalinde.
Let no face be kept in mind
But the fair of Rosalinde.'
TOUCH. I'll rhyme you so eight years together, dinners, and
suppers, and sleeping hours, excepted. It is the right
butter-women's rank to market.
ROSALIND. Out, fool!
TOUCH. For a taste:
If a hart do lack a hind,
Let him seek out Rosalinde.
If the cat will after kind,
So be sure will Rosalinde.
Winter garments must be lin'd,
So must slender Rosalinde.
They that reap must sheaf and bind,
Then to cart with Rosalinde.
Sweetest nut hath sourest rind,
Such a nut is Rosalinde.
He that sweetest rose will find
Must find love's prick and Rosalinde.
This is the very false gallop of verses; why do you infect
yourself with them?
ROSALIND. Peace, you dull fool! I found them on a tree.
TOUCH. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit.
Orlando misses an appointment at which is to Ganymede-as-Rosalind. Oliver--Orlando's wicked brother--arrives to explain Orlando's delay. He is carrying a bloody napkin that is said to have come from Orlando--upon news of which, the fair youth, "Ganymede," promptly swoons...
Enter OLIVER
OLIVER. Good morrow, fair ones; pray you, if you know,
Where in the purlieus of this forest stands
A sheep-cote fenc'd about with olive trees?
CELIA. West of this place, down in the neighbour bottom.
The rank of osiers by the murmuring stream
Left on your right hand brings you to the place.
But at this hour the house doth keep itself;
There's none within.
OLIVER. If that an eye may profit by a tongue,
Then should I know you by description-
Such garments, and such years: 'The boy is fair,
Of female favor, and bestows himself
Like a ripe sister; the woman low,
And browner than her brother.' Are not you
The owner of the house I did inquire for?
CELIA. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say we are.
OLIVER. Orlando doth commend him to you both;
And to that youth he calls his Rosalind
He sends this bloody napkin. Are you he?
ROSALIND. I am. What must we understand by this?
OLIVER. Some of my shame; if you will know of me
What man I am, and how, and why, and where,
This handkercher was stain'd.
CELIA. I pray you, tell it.
OLIVER. When last the young Orlando parted from you,
He left a promise to return again
Within an hour; and, pacing through the forest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Lo, what befell! He threw his eye aside,
And mark what object did present itself.
Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age,
And high top bald with dry antiquity,
A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
Lay sleeping on his back. About his neck
A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,
Who with her head nimble in threats approach'd
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly,
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
And with indented glides did slip away
Into a bush; under which bush's shade
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry,
Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,
When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
The royal disposition of that beast
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead.
This seen, Orlando did approach the man,
And found it was his brother, his elder brother.
CELIA. O, I have heard him speak of that same brother;
And he did render him the most unnatural
That liv'd amongst men.
OLIVER. And well he might so do,
For well I know he was unnatural.
ROSALIND. But, to Orlando: did he leave him there,
Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness?
OLIVER. Twice did he turn his back, and purpos'd so;
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge,
And nature, stronger than his just occasion,
Made him give battle to the lioness,
Who quickly fell before him; in which hurtling
From miserable slumber I awak'd.
CELIA. Are you his brother?
ROSALIND. Was't you he rescu'd?
CELIA. Was't you that did so oft contrive to kill him?
OLIVER. 'Twas I; but 'tis not I. I do not shame
To tell you what I was, since my conversion
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am.
ROSALIND. But for the bloody napkin?
OLIVER. By and by.
When from the first to last, betwixt us two,
Tears our recountments had most kindly bath'd,
As how I came into that desert place-
In brief, he led me to the gentle Duke,
Who gave me fresh array and entertainment,
Committing me unto my brother's love;
Who led me instantly unto his cave,
There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm
The lioness had torn some flesh away,
Which all this while had bled; and now he fainted,
And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind.
Brief, I recover'd him, bound up his wound,
And, after some small space, being strong at heart,
He sent me hither, stranger as I am,
To tell this story, that you might excuse
His broken promise, and to give this napkin,
Dy'd in his blood, unto the shepherd youth
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind.
[ROSALIND swoons]
CELIA. Why, how now, Ganymede! sweet Ganymede!
OLIVER. Many will swoon when they do look on blood.
CELIA. There is more in it. Cousin Ganymede!
OLIVER. Look, he recovers.
ROSALIND. I would I were at home.
CELIA. We'll lead you thither.
I pray you, will you take him by the arm?
OLIVER. Be of good cheer, youth. You a man!
You lack a man's heart.
ROSALIND. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sirrah, a body would think
this was well counterfeited. I pray you tell your brother how
well I counterfeited. Heigh-ho!
OLIVER. This was not counterfeit; there is too great testimony in
your complexion that it was a passion of earnest.
ROSALIND. Counterfeit, I assure you.
OLIVER. Well then, take a good heart and counterfeit to be a man.
ROSALIND. So I do; but, i' faith, I should have been a woman by
right.
CELIA. Come, you look paler and paler; pray you draw homewards.
Good sir, go with us.
OLIVER. That will I, for I must bear answer back
How you excuse my brother, Rosalind.
ROSALIND. I shall devise something; but, I pray you, commend my
counterfeiting to him. Will you go? Exeunt
When they next meet, Orlando's arm is in a sling. Orlando has grown tired of pretending that Ganymede is really a girl. He wants to marry his Rosalind.
Enter ROSALIND
ROSALIND. God save you, brother.
OLIVER. And you, fair sister. Exit
ROSALIND. O, my dear Orlando, how it grieves me to see thee wear
thy heart in a scarf!
ORLANDO. It is my arm.
ROSALIND. I thought thy heart had been wounded with the claws of a
lion.
ORLANDO. Wounded it is, but with the eyes of a lady.
ROSALIND. Did your brother tell you how I counterfeited to swoon
when he show'd me your handkercher?
ORLANDO. Ay, and greater wonders than that.
ROSALIND. O, I know where you are. Nay, 'tis true. There was never
any thing so sudden but the fight of two rams and Caesar's
thrasonical brag of 'I came, saw, and overcame.' For your brother
and my sister no sooner met but they look'd; no sooner look'd but
they lov'd; no sooner lov'd but they sigh'd; no sooner sigh'd but
they ask'd one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but
they sought the remedy- and in these degrees have they made pair
of stairs to marriage, which they will climb incontinent, or else
be incontinent before marriage. They are in the very wrath of
love, and they will together. Clubs cannot part them.
ORLANDO. They shall be married to-morrow; and I will bid the Duke
to the nuptial. But, O, how bitter a thing it is to look into
happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I
to-morrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I
shall think my brother happy in having what he wishes for.
ROSALIND. Why, then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for
Rosalind?
ORLANDO. I can live no longer by thinking.
Meanwhile, the shepherd-wench Phoebe (who'se loved by a yokel named Silvius) falls madly for Ganymede, not realizing that "he" is a girl. Rosalind, with Shakespeare's help, sees to it that everyone is neatly matched up at the end.
PHEBE ([o Rosalind-Ganymede]. Youth, you have done me much ungentleness
To show [to Silvius] the letter that I writ to you.
ROSALIND. I care not if I have. It is my study
To seem despiteful and ungentle to you.
You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd;
Look upon him, love him; he worships you.
PHEBE. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love.
SILVIUS. It is to be all made of sighs and tears;
And so am I for Phebe.
PHEBE. And I for Ganymede.
ORLANDO. And I for Rosalind.
ROSALIND. And I for no woman.
SILVIUS. It is to be all made of faith and service;
And so am I for Phebe.
PHEBE. And I for Ganymede.
ORLANDO. And I for Rosalind.
ROSALIND. And I for no woman.
SILVIUS. It is to be all made of fantasy,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes;
All adoration, duty, and observance,
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,
All purity, all trial, all obedience;
And so am I for Phebe.
PHEBE. And so am I for Ganymede.
ORLANDO. And so am I for Rosalind.
ROSALIND. And so am I for no woman.
PHEBE. If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
SILVIUS. If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
ORLANDO. If this be so, why blame you me to love you?
ROSALIND. Why do you speak too, 'Why blame you me to love you?'
ORLANDO. To her that is not here, nor doth not hear.
ROSALIND. Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like the howling of Irish
wolves against the moon....
======================================================
Lewis Machin, "Apollo Hyacinth." From Mirrha the Mother of Adonis: or, Lust’s Prodigies (London, 1607)
Apollo Hyacinth [I]
Apollo, weary, let his [coursers] breathe
Whilst he descended to this earth beneath.
Armed with his bow and shafts, he walked the woods
To hear the muttering of the shallow floods.
5 The little birds did sing on every briar,
Making the green-boughed trees their music’s quire.
And with sweet notes these harmless singers strove
To chant an anthem to the gods above.
Phoebus was ravished, hearing of this noise,
10 Vowing he would forsake his heavenly joys
To live on earth, if no more harm were found
Than did appear upon that pleasant ground.
(But he did after find this false world’s pleasure
Joy for a minute, trouble without measure.)
15 Thus wand’ring up and down without this grove
He spied a boy that after game did rove.
His bow was in his hand, shafts by his side;
His curled hair did all his shoulders hide.
A well-shaped face he had, pleasing [to] view,
20 A fine straight body, and a heart most true.
Apollo stayed and gazed upon his face,
Supposing him [a] mortal of Jove’s race.
And that blind archer that doth wound all hearts
Had now quite overcome the god of arts,
25 For he did dote upon this lovely youth,
Whose heart was all composed of melting ruth.
And, seeing Phoebus come, the boy did stay him.
He said, "Youth, will you walk?" He’d not denay him,
But went along together, hand in hand,
30 And Zephyr with calm wind their faces fanned.
Then Phoebus said, "Fair youth, what make you here?"
"[Kind] courteous stranger, for to kill the deer!
To hear the birds to sing, the waters glide,
Tumbling in curls along a green bank-side.
35 More sweet content in harmless woods is found
Than in great cities. There doth sin abound,
But here [hunt’s] quiet keeps us company,
Free from all cares and bad society.
Here grows high grass. Let’s sit and make it flat,
40 And so beguile swift time with pleasing chat."
So, hand in hand, they sat them on the ground,
Where little birds did make harmonious sound &emdash;
But Phoebus’ heart did pant and leap with joy
When he beheld that sweet delicious boy.
45 His eyes did sparkle love, his heart flamed fire.
To see the sweet boy smile is his desire.
Then with an ardent grip his hand he crushed,
And then he kissed him &emdash; and the boy then blushed.
That blushing color so became his face
50 That Phoebus kissed again, and thought it grace
To touch his lips. Such pleasure Phoebus felt,
That in an amorous dew his heart did melt.
And thus he dallied with his amorous kisses,
Forgetting of the world that his light misses.
55 More joy he had when this day did approach
Than in his shining crown or burning coach.
Wearied with toying, they left off their play &emdash;
And conquering night had now o’ercome the day,
Casting her sable curtains o’er the sky.
60 Then said the boy, "I to my rest must hie."
"And I," said Phoebus, "must into the sea,
To sport with Thetio [till] the break of day.
Tomorrow, when my chariot’s in the west,
Then meet me here, for that’s my [time] of rest."
65 "I will," quoth Hyacinth. "Till then, farewell."
The parting of true friends all pains excel;
Phoebus turned coward and was quite dishearted.
At last he came and kissed him, and so parted.
Apollo Hyacinth [II]
Grim night being past, the morning star appeared,
And bright Aurora had the welking cleared;
Then Phoebus, drawn forth by his fiery team,
Gilded the hills, the fields, and wat’ry stream.
5 So swiftly flew his steeds through scorching flames
As if he ran for the Olympic games,
But ’twas not so: Apollo made that haste,
Longing till he his Hyacinth embraced;
And Hyacinth, sweet youth, the time respected
10 (Gods’ love by mortals should not be neglected).
There sat he down by a clear running brook
And, like Narcissus, doteth with each look
He casts upon himself. There had he died,
But that bright Phoebus did his beauty hide
15 In over-darkened clouds, to stop his self-loved error &emdash;
No shape he saw in nature’s watery mirror.
And now Apollo, waning towards the west,
Unteamed his fiery steeds and let them rest
Whilst he descended on this ball of earth,
20 To sport with Hyacinth &emdash; strange unknown mirth,
For which the Gods were angry, and decreed
They would remove the cause: the boy must bleed.
Now Phoebus for to see his love did haste him &emdash;
Then Hyacinth came running and embraced him.
25 More joy had Phoebus in this Spartan lad
Than heaven-born Jove in Phrygian Ganymed.
His love to Daphne (that chaste, beauteous nymph)
Was not so great as to his Hyacinth.
All female pleasures which he did adore
30 Are dull to those of his male paramour;
And having passed some hours in delight,
They would to walk to Delphos ere-that night
Should dark the world &emdash; for they went to see
The sport there made by the land’s [peasantry].
35 And being come to a fair spacious plain,
There might they see each nymph had got a swain,
Some dancing after pipes; others were running
At barley break, and with their homely cunning
Sought to delight themselves and those stood-by.
40 Others for nimble footing there did try
Who best deserved the worth. Some threw at length
The heavy sledge, and therein showed their strength &emdash;
Which pleased Apollo best. Then he would prove
His strength in it &emdash; and threw it far above
45 The expectation of the standers-by
For through the clouds the sledge did seem to fly.
And Hyacinth, being eager for to throw,
Ran to the place ere-that it fell below
Upon the earth; and, falling on firm ground,
50 Against his face the heavy sledge rebounds
And struck him to the earth! The god did sound
When he beheld that fatal, deadly wound.
But, being revived, he hallowed in his ear,
To call back life: "O Hyacinth, my dear,
55 Leave me not thus. I will court destiny
For to revoke [thy] doom! thou shalt not die!"
Grief would not help. In gore there lay his brain &emdash;
And so, Apollo’s Hyacinth was slain.
But yet the god still wept upon his wound,
60 Till with his tears there sprung from out the ground
A flower where his bleeding corpse lay dead,
Shaped like a lilly (but this flower was red).
The people wondered when they saw this done &emdash;
But then he showed himself bright like the sun,
65 Which filled them all with fear. They kneeling said,
"Tell us thy will, and it shall be obeyed!"
"Then build a stately temple o’er this flower,
And dedicate it to his matchless power
That kept my heart in thrall &emdash; that lovely boy,
70 Beauty of mankind and Apollo’s joy &emdash;
And every year to make a solemn feast
In honor of my friend but now deceased.
And for my part, I’ll walk in shadow-groves,
Consort with virgin’s ghosts, slain by [false] loves.
75 No more I’ll touch my viol or my lute,
Nor speak to gods or men &emdash; true grief is mute."
So he departed, wringing of his hands,
And they to do those things that he commands.
The gods, for missing of their wonted light,
80 Sent Mercury to know of him if night
Should still possess the world. He made reply,
"Three days for Phaeton did I leave the sky.
But Hyacinth was dearer. For his wrack,
Six days the world shall mourn in solemn black."
85 But Hermes used such cunning, he did force
Phoebus again to take his wonted course;
And so to heaven he went with Mercury,
Whose tongue had power to o’errule destiny.
Yet since the earth had robbed him of his friend,
90 He vowed this curse until the world should end:
Half of the year, his beams should comfort shine;
The rest to rain and frost he would resign,
And that (because his sorrow here had birth)
Trouble and grief should still possess the earth.
Lewes Machin.
Finis. ( 1607)
================================================
John Dowland
From Lyrics from Lyric Airs (1612)
II
To my worthy friend Mr. William Jewel
of Exeter College in Oxford
Sweet, stay a while! Why will you rise? &emdash;
The light you see comes from your eyes.
The day breaks not &emdash; it is my heart,
To think that you and I must part.
5 O stay, or else my joys must die,
And perish in their infancy.
Dear, let me die in this fair breast,
Far sweeter than the Phoenix-nest.
Love, raise desire by his sweet charms
10 Within this circle of thine arms &emdash;
And let thy blissful kisses cherish
Mine infant joys, that else must perish.
III
To ask for all thy love and thy whole heart,
t’were madness.
I do not sue
Nor can admit,
5 Fairest, from you
To have all. Yet
Who giveth all hath nothing to impart
but sadness.
He that receiveth all, can have no more
10 than seeing.
My love by length
Of every hour
Gathers new strength,
New growth, new flower.
15 You must have, daily, new rewards in store,
still being.
You cannot every day give me your heart
for merit.
Yet, if you will,
20 When yours doth go
You shall have still
One to bestow:
For you shall mine when yours doth part
inherit.
25 Yet if you please, I’ll find a better way
than change them.
For so alone,
Dearest, we shall
Be one, and one
30 Another’s all.
Let us so join our hearts that nothing may
estrange them.
IV
Love, those beams that breed, all day long breed, and feed this burning,
Love, I quench with floods, floods of tears, nightly tears and mourning.
But (alas!) tears cool this fire in vain:
The more I quench, the more there doth remain.
5 I’ll go to the woods, and alone make my moan &emdash; O cruel!
For I am deceived and bereaved of my life, my Jewel.
O, but in the woods, though Love be blind
He hath his spies, my secret haunts to find.
Love, then I must yield to thy might (might- and spite-oppressed!)
10 Since I see my wrongs (woe is me!) cannot be redressed.
Come at last, be friendly, Love, to me &emdash;
And let me not endure this misery.
========================================================
Thomas Ravenscroft, A Briefe Discourse Of The True Use Of Charact'ring the Degrees In Measurable Musicke (1614)
15. Of Enamoring
Love for such a cherry lip
Would be glad to pawn his arrows.
Venus here to take a sip
Would sell her doves and team of sparrows,
But she shall not so, 5
Hey no nonny nonny no,
None but I this lip must owe,
Ney nonny nonny nonny, hey, hey nonny no.
Did Jove see this wanton eye,
Ganymede should waits no longer: [ serve as cupbearer
Phoebe here one night to lie,
Would change her face, and look much younger.
But she shall not see,
Hey nonny, nonny no.
None but I this lip must owe, 15
Hey nonny, nonny no.
===============================================
Thomas Collins, The Teares of Love: Or, Cupids Progresse. (1615)
[The shepherd's lament for his sweetheart, Coravin]
Cupid departed, and to earth he goes,
To sit and hear the sorrows, sighs and woes
Of the sad swains, for those whom he had slain;
But most for Coravin they did complain:
And every one of them exclaimed on Death,
Not thinking Cupid had reft him of breath
Until the time that he was clad in clay,
Which (woe is me) was on Saint Peter's day;
A day of dread. Oh had it never been,
T' entomb in clay the comely Coravin,
The comely Coravin (the more grief's mine.)
In th' earth (that day) the shepherds did enshrine,
Enshrine (ay me!) they did, and I must say,
When I name that, I name a weeping day,
A weeping day. Yea, so it was indeed:
For then heaven wept, and th' hearts of men did bleed, ...
(lines 712-27)
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Aye me, it is for Coravin that I
Now sigh and grieve and weep thus woefully.
Dead is my dear. Oh, would he were not so!
Joy, Heaven-- thou hast him (he did thither go)
On earth he could not, no, he could not stay.
Heaven got him hence (like Ganymede) away.
None but my dearest, dear-loved Coravin,
Coravin only, could Jove's favor win.
Up to the heavens the gods have got my love,
Royally robed--he there attends on Jove.
(lines 1428-37)
========================================================
Thomas Bancroft, Two Bookes of Epigrammes, and Epitaphs. (1639)
28. To Thomas May of Sutton-Cheney, Gentleman.
Sweet Tom, that (like that minion, Earine,
Whose beauty great Domitian held divine)
Dost in thy name the youth and pleasure bear,
Beauty and loveliness of all the year;
Yet in thy gall-less temper dost imply
More sweetness than that name doth signify:
My true heart loves thee (what can more be said?)
Were I but Jove, thou wert my Ganymede!
========================================================
Other texts of interest:
Anon. tr. Theocritus, Sixe idillia (Oxford, 1588). STC 23937
John Dickenson, Arisbas, Euphues amidst his Slumbers; or Cupids
Journey to Hell (1594). STC 380 [reel 6817].
W. Shakespeare Sonnets (1609)
And this, from The Classicist's Jokebook....
The God Thor, hearing of Zeus's escapades with Ganymede, decided he'd like to try it that way: so he swooped down to earth, found himself a cute guy in a gay bar, and hauled the fellow up to heaven for a night of doing whatever pagan gods do on such occasions.
When the fair youth awoke in the morning, the Norse god revealed his identity: "I'm THOR!" he said.
To which the youth replied, "You think YOU'RE thore!"