Classic Poem

They fought still like the rage of fire. And now Antilochus
Came to Æacides, whose mind was much solicitous
For that which (as he fear'd) was falne. He found him neer the fleet
With upright saile-yeards, uttering this to his heroike conceit:
‘Ay me, why see the Greeks themselves thus beaten from the field
And routed headlong to their fleet? O let not heaven yeeld
Effect to what my sad soule feares, that (as I was foretold)
The strongest Myrmidon (next me), when I should still behold
The Sunne's faire light, must part with it. Past doubt Menœtius' sonne
Is he on whom that fate is wrought. O wretch, to leave undone
What I commanded, that the fleete once freed of hostile fire
(Not meeting Hector) instantly he should his powres retire.’
As thus his troubl'd mind discourst, Antilochus appear'd,
And told with teares the sad newes thus: ‘My Lord, that must be heard
Which would to heaven I might not tell; Menœtius' sonne lies dead,
And for his naked corse (his armes alreadie forfeited
And worne by Hector) the debate is now most vehement.’
This said, Griefe darkned all his powres. With both his hands he rent
The blacke mould from the forced earth and pour'd it on his head,
Smear'd all his lovely face, his weeds (divinely fashioned)
All filde and mangl'd, and himselfe he threw upon the shore,
Lay as laid out for funerall, then tumbl'd round, and tore
His gracious curles. His Ecstacie he did so farre extend
That all the Ladies wonne by him and his now slaughterd friend
(Afflicted strangely for his plight) came shrieking from the tents
And fell about him, beate their breasts, their tender lineaments
Dissolv'd with sorrow. And with them wept Nestor's warlike sonne,
Fell by him, holding his faire hands in feare he would have done
His person violence; his heart (extremely streightned) burn'd,
Beate, sweld and sighd, as it would burst. So terribly he mourn'd
That Thetis, sitting in the deepes of her old father's seas,
Heard and lamented. To her plaints the bright Nereides
Flockt all, how many those darke gulfes soever comprehend.
There Glauce and Cymodoce and Spio did attend,
Nesæa and Cymothoe and calme Amphithoe,
Thalia, Thoe, Panope and swift Dynamene,
Actæa and Limnoria and Halia the faire,
Fam'd for the beautie of her eyes, Amathia for her haire,
Iæra, Proto, Clymene and curl'd Dexamene,
Pherusa, Doris, and with these the smooth Amphinome,
Chast Galatea so renowm'd and Callianira came
With Doto and Orithia, to cheare the mournfull Dame;
Apseudes likewise visited, and Callianassa gave
Her kind attendance, and with her Agave grac't the Cave;
Nemertes, Mæra followed, Melita, Ianesse,
With Ianira and the rest of those Nereides
That in the deepe seas make abode; all which together beate
Their dewie bosomes, and to all thus Thetis did repeate
Her cause of mourning: ‘Sisters, heare how much the sorrowes wey,
Whose cries now cald ye. Haplesse I brought forth unhappily
The best of all the sonnes of men; who (like a well-set plant
In best soiles) grew and flourished; and when his spirit did want
Employment for his youth and strength, I sent him with a fleete
To fight at Ilion, from whence his fate-confined feete
Passe all my deitie to retire. The court of his high birth,
The glorious court of Peleus, must entertaine his worth
Never hereafter. All the life he hath to live with me
Must wast in sorrowes. And this sonne I now am bent to see,
Being now afflicted with some griefe not usually grave,
Whose knowledge and recure I seeke.’ This said, she left her cave,
Which all left with her; swimming forth, the greene waves, as they swom,
Cleft with their bosomes, curld, and gave quicke way to Troy. Being come,
They all ascended, two and two, and trod the honor'd shore,
Till where the fleete of Myrmidons (drawne up in heapes) it bore.
There stayd they at Achilles' ship, and there did Thetis lay
Her faire hand on her sonne's curl'd head, sigh'd, wept, and bad him say
What griefe drew from his eyes those teares. ‘Conceale it not,’ said she,
‘Till this houre thy uplifted hands have all things granted thee.
The Greeks (all thrust up at their sternes) have pour'd out teares enow,
And in them seene how much they misse remission of thy vow.’
He said: ‘Tis true, Olympius hath done me all that grace:
But what joy have I of it all, when thus thrusts in the place
Losse of my whole selfe in my friend? Whom, when his foe had slaine,
He spoil'd of those prophaned armes that Peleus did obtaine
From heaven's high powres, solemnizing thy sacred nuptiall bands
As th' onely present of them all, and fitted well their hands,
Being lovely, radiant, marvellous. O would to heaven thy throne,
With these faire deities of the sea, thou still hadst sate upon,
And Peleus had a mortall wife; since by his meanes is done
So much wrong to thy grieved mind, my death being set so soone,
And never suffering my returne to grace of Peleus' court;
Nor do I wish it, nor to live in any man's resort,
But onely that the crying bloud for vengeance of my friend,
Mangl'd by Hector, may be stild, his foe's death paying his end.’
She weeping, said: ‘That houre is neare, and thy death's houre then nie,
Which in thy wish serv'd of thy foe succeedeth instantly.’
‘And instantly it shall succeed,’ he answerd, ‘since my fate
Allow'd not to my will a powre to rescue (ere the date
Of his late slaughter) my true friend. Farre from his friends he died,
Whose wrong therein my eyes had light and right to see denied.
Yet now I neither light my selfe, nor have so spent my light,
That either this friend or the rest (in numbers infinite
Slaughterd by Hector) I can helpe, nor grace with wisht repaire
To our deare country, but breathe here unprofitable aire,
And onely live a lode to earth with all my strength, though none
Of all the Grecians equall it. In counsell many a one
Is my superiour; what I have, no grace gets; what I want,
Disgraceth all. How then too soone can hastiest death supplant
My fate-curst life?—her instrument, to my indignitie,
Being that blacke fiend Contention, whom would to God might die
To gods and men, and Anger too, that kindles tyrannie
In men most wise, being much more sweete than liquid hony is
To men of powre to satiate their watchfull enmities.
And like a pliant fume it spreds through all their breasts, as late
It stole sterne passage thorough mine, which he did instigate
That is our Generall. But the fact so long past, the effect
Must vanish with it, though both griev'd; nor must we still respect
Our soothed humours; Need now takes the rule of either's mind.
And when the loser of my friend his death in me shall find,
Let death take all. Send him, ye gods; I'le give him my embrace.
Not Hercules himselfe shund death, though dearest in the grace
Of Jupiter; even him Fate stoopt, and Juno's crueltie;
And if such Fate expect my life, where death strikes I will lie.
Meane time I wish a good renowme, that these deepe-brested Dames
Of Ilion and Dardania may, for th' extinguisht flames
Of their friends' lives, with both their hands wipe miserable teares
From their so curiously-kept cheekes, and be the officers
To execute my sighs on Troy—when (seeing my long retreate
But gatherd strength, and gives my charge an answerable heate)
They well may know twas I lay still, and that my being away
Presented all their happinesse. But any further stay,
(Which your much love perhaps may wish) assay not to perswade.
All vowes are kept, all prayres heard; now free way for fight is made.’
The silver-footed Dame replide: ‘It fits thee well, my sonne,
To keepe destruction from thy friends, but those faire armes are wonne
And worne by Hector, that should keepe thy selfe in keeping them,
Though their fruition be but short, a long death being neare him
Whose cruell glorie they are yet. By all meanes then forbeare
To tread the massacres of warre till I againe appeare
From Mulciber with fit new armes; which, when thy eye shall see
The Sunne next rise, shall enter here with his first beames and me.’
Thus to her sisters of the sea she turn'd, and bad them ope
The doores and deepes of Nereus; she in Olympus top
Must visite Vulcan for new armes to serve her wreakfull sonne,
And bad informe her father so, with all things further done.
This said, they underwent the sea, her selfe flew up to heaven.
In meane space, to the Hellespont and ships the Greeks were driven
In shamefull rout; nor could they yet from rage of Priam's sonne
Secure the dead of new assaults, both horse and men made on
With such impression. Thrice the feete the hands of Hector seasd,
And thrice th' Ajaces thumpt him off. With whose repulse displeasd,
He wreakt his wrath upon the troupes, then to the corse againe
Made horrid turnings, crying out of his repulsed men,
And would not quit him quite for death. A Lion almost sterv'd
Is not by upland herdsmen driven from urging to be serv'd
With more contention that his strength by those two of a name;
And had perhaps his much-praisd will, if th' airie-footed dame
(Swift Iris) had not stoopt in hast, Ambassadresse from heaven,
To Peleus' sonne to bid him arme; her message being given
By Juno, kept from all the gods, she thus excited him:
‘Rise, thou most terrible of men, and save the precious lim
Of thy belov'd, in whose behalfe the conflict now runnes hie
Before the fleete; the either host fels other mutually,
These to retaine, those to obtaine; amongst whom most of all
Is Hector prompt; hee's apt to drag thy friend home; he your pall
Will make his shoulders, his head forc't; hee'l be most famous; rise,
No more lie idle; set the foe a much more costly prise
Of thy friend's value than let dogs make him a monument,
Where thy name will be graven.’ He askt: ‘What deitie hath sent
Thy presence hither?’ She repli'd: ‘Saturnia, she alone,
Not high Jove knowing, nor one god that doth inhabite on
Snowie Olympus.’ He againe: ‘How shall I set upon
The worke of slaughter when mine armes are worne by Priam's son?
How will my goddesse mother grieve, that bad I should not arme
Till she brought armes from Mulciber? But should I do such harme
To her and dutie, who is he (but Ajax) that can vant
The fitting my brest with his armes? And he is conversant
Amongst the first in use of his, and rampiers of the foe
(Slaine neare Patroclus) builds to him.’ ‘All this,’ said she, ‘we know,
And wish thou onely wouldst but show thy person to the eyes
Of these hote Ilians, that (afraid of further enterprise)
The Greeks may gaine some litle breath.’ She woo'd, and he was won,
And straite Minerva honor'd him, who Jove's shield clapt upon
His mightie shoulders, and his head girt with a cloud of gold,
That cast beames round about his browes. And as when armes enfold
A citie in an Ile, from thence a fume at first appeares
(Being in the day), but when the Even her cloudie forehead reares,
Thicke show the fires, and up they cast their splendor, that men nie,
Seeing their distresse, perhaps may set ships out to their supply:
So (to shew such aid) from his head a light rose, scaling heaven.
And forth the wall he stept and stood, nor brake the precept given
By his great mother (mixt in fight), but sent abroad his voice,
Which Pallas farre off ecchoed—who did betwixt them hoise
Shrill Tumult to a toplesse height. And as a voice is heard
With emulous affection, when any towne is spher'd
With siege of such a foe as kils men's minds, and for the towne
Makes sound his trumpet: so the voice from Thetis' issue throwne
Won emulously th' eares of all. His brazen voice once heard,
The minds of all were startl'd so, they yeelded; and so feard
The faire-man'd horses that they flew backe and their chariots turn'd,
Presaging in their augurous hearts the labours that they mourn'd
A litle after; and their guides a repercussive dread
Tooke from the horrid radiance of his refulgent head,
Which Pallas set on fire with grace. Thrice great Achilles spake,
And thrice (in heate of all the charge) the Troyans started backe.
Twelve men, of greatest strength in Troy, left with their lives exhald
Their chariots and their darts to death with his three summons cald.
And then the Grecians spritefully drew from the darts the corse
And hearst it, bearing it to fleete, his friends with all remorse
Marching about it. His great friend, dissolving then in teares
To see his truly-lov'd return'd so horst upon an herse,
Whom with such horse and chariot he set out safe and whole—
Now wounded with unpittying steele, now sent without a soule,
Never againe to be restor'd, never receiv'd but so—
He follow'd mourning bitterly. The Sunne (yet farre to go)
Juno commanded to go downe, who in his powre's despight
Sunke to the Ocean, over earth dispersing sodaine Night.
And then the Greeks and Troyans both gave up their horse and darts.
The Troyans all to counsell call'd ere they refresht their hearts
With any supper, nor would sit, they grew so stiffe with feare
To see (so long from heavie fight) Æacides appeare.
Polydamas began to speake, who onely could discerne
Things future by things past, and was vow'd friend to Hector, borne
In one night both; he thus advisde: ‘Consider well, my friends,
In this so great and sodaine change that now it selfe extends,
What change is best for us t' oppose. To this stands my command;
Make now the towne our strength, not here abide light's rosie hand,
Our wall being farre off, and our foe (much greater) still as nere.
Till this foe came, I well was pleasde to keepe our watches here;
My fit hope of the fleete's surprise enclin'd me so. But now
Tis stronglier guarded, and (their strength increast) we must allow
Our owne proportionate amends. I doubt exceedingly
That this indifferencie of fight twixt us and th' enemie,
And these bounds we prefixe to them, will nothing so confine
Th' uncurb'd mind of Æacides. The height of his designe
Aimes at our citie and our wives, and all barres in his way
(Being backt with lesse than wals) his powre will scorne to make his stay,
And overrunne, as overseene, and not his object. Then
Let Troy be freely our retreate, lest, being enforc't, our men
Twixt this and that be taken up by Vultures; who by night
May safe come off, it being a time untimely for his might
To spend at randome. That being sure, if next light shew us here
To his assaults, each man will wish that Troy his refuge were,
And then feele what he heares not now. I would to heaven mine eare
Were free even now of those complaints that you must after heare,
If ye remove not. If ye yeeld (though wearied with a fight)
So late and long, we shall have strength in counsell and the night.
And (where we here have no more force than Need will force us to,
And which must rise out of our nerves) high ports, towres, walls will do
What wants in us. And in the morne, all arm'd upon our towres,
We all will stand out to our foe. Twill trouble all his powres
To come from fleet and give us charge, when his high-crested horse
His rage shall satiate with the toyle of this and that waye's course,
Vaine entrie seeking underneath our well-defended wals,
And he be glad to turne to fleet about his funerals.
For of his entrie here at home, what mind will serve his thirst,
Or ever feed him with sackt Troy? The dogs shall eate him first.’
At this speech, Hector bent his browes, and said: ‘This makes not great
Your grace with me, Polydamas, that argue for retreate
To Troy's old prison. Have we not enough of those towres yet?
And is not Troy yet charg'd enough with impositions set
Upon her citizens, to keepe our men from spoyle without,
But still we must impose within? That houses with our rout,
As well as purses, may be plagu'd? Before time, Priam's towne
Traffickt with divers-languag'd men, and all gave the renowne
Of rich Troy to it, brasse and gold abounding: but her store
Is now from every house exhaust, possessions evermore
Are sold out into Phrygia and lovely Mæonie,
And have bene ever since Jove's wrath. And now his clemencie
Gives me the meane to quit our want with glorie, and conclude
The Greeks in sea-bords and our seas. To slacke it, and extrude
His offerd bountie by our flight, foole that thou art, bewray
This counsell to no common eare, for no man shall obay.
If any will, I'le checke his will. But what our selfe command
Let all observe: take suppers all, keepe watch of every hand.
If any Troyan have some spoyle that takes his too much care,
Make him dispose it publickly; tis better any fare
The better for him than the Greeks. When light then deckes the skies,
Let all arme for a fierce assault. If great Achilles rise
And will enforce our greater toyle, it may rise so to him;
On my backe he shall find no wings; my spirit shall force my lim
To stand his worst, and give or take. Mars is our common Lord,
And the desirous sword-man's life he ever puts to sword.’
This counsell gat applause of all, so much were all unwise.
Minerva robd them of their braines, to like the ill advice
The great man gave, and leave the good, since by the meaner given.
All tooke their suppers; but the Greeks spent all the heavy Even
About Patroclus' mournfull rites, Pelides leading all
In all the formes of heavinesse: he by his side did fall,
And his man-slaughtering hands imposd into his oft-kist brest;
Sighes blew up sighes: and Lion-like, grac't with a goodly crest,
That in his absence being robd by hunters of his whelps,
Returnes to his so desolate den, and (for his wanted helps)
Beholding his unlookt-for wants, flies roring backe againe,
Hunts the slie hunter, many a vale resounding his disdaine:
So mourn'd Pelides his late losse, so weightie were his mones,
Which (for their dumbe sounds now gave words to all his Myrmidons:
‘O gods,’ said he, ‘how vaine a vow I made (to cheare the mind)
Of sad Menœtius, when his sonne his hand to mine resign'd,
That high-towr'd Opus he should see, and leave rac't Ilion
With spoyle and honor, even with me? But Jove vouchsafes to none
Wisht passages to all his vowes; we both were destinate
To bloody one earth here in Troy; nor any more estate
In my returne hath Peleus or Thetis. But because
I last must undergo the ground, I'le keepe no funerall lawes,
O my Patroclus, for thy Corse before I hither bring
The armes of Hector, and his head, to thee for offering.
Twelve youths, the most renown'd of Troy, I'le sacrifise beside
Before thy heape of funerall, to thee unpacifide.
In meane time, by our crooked sternes lye drawing teares from me;
And round about thy honour'd Corse these dames of Dardanie
And Ilion with the ample breasts (whom our long speares, and powres,
And labours purchast from the rich and by-us-ruind towres
And cities strong and populous, with divers-languag'd men)
Shall kneele, and neither day nor night be licenst to abstaine
From solemne watches, their toil'd eyes held ope with endlesse teares.’
This passion past, he gave command to his neare souldiers
To put a Tripod to the fire, to cleanse the festred gore
From off the person. They obeyd, and presently did powre
Fresh water in it, kindl'd wood, and with an instant flame
The belly of the Tripod girt till fire's hote qualitie came
Up to the water. Then they washt and fild the mortall wound
With wealthy oyle of nine yeares old, then wrapt the body round
In largenesse of a fine white sheete, and put it then in bed,
When all watcht all night with their Lord, and spent sighes on the dead.
Then Jove askt Juno, if at length she had suffisde her splene,
Achilles being wonne to armes? Or if she had not bene
The naturall mother of the Greeks, she did so still preferre
Their quarrell? She, incenst, askt why he still was tanting her
For doing good to those she lov'd?—since man to man might show
Kind offices, though thrall to death, and though they did not know
Halfe such deepe counsels as disclosd beneath her farre-seeing state,
She reigning Queene of goddesses; and being ingenerate
Of one stocke with himselfe, besides the state of being his wife.
And must her wrath and ill to Troy continue such a strife
From time to time twixt him and her? This private speech they had.
And now the silver-footed Queene had her ascension made,
To that incorruptible house, that starry golden court
Of fiery Vulcan, beautifull amongst th' immortall sort,
Which yet the lame god built himselfe. She found him in a sweate
About his bellowes, and in haste had twentie Tripods beate,
To set for stooles about the sides of his well-builded hall.
To whose feete little wheeles of gold he put, to go withall
And enter his rich dining roome—alone, their motion free,
And backe againe go out alone, miraculous to see.
And thus much he had done of them, yet handles were to adde,
For which he now was making studs. And while their fashion had
Employment of his skilfull hand, bright Thetis was come neare,
Whom first faire well-haird Charis saw, that was the nuptiall fere
Of famous Vulcan, who the hand of Thetis tooke, and said:
‘Why, faire-train'd, lov'd and honour'd Dame, are we thus visited
By your kind presence? You, I thinke, were never here before.
Come neare, that I may banquet you and make you visite more.’
She led her in, and in a chaire of silver (being the fruite
Of Vulcan's hand) she made her sit, a footstoole, of a suite,
Apposing to her Cristall feete; and cald the god of fire—
For Thetis was arriv'd, she said, and entertain'd desire
Of some grace that his art might grant. ‘Thetis to me,’ said he,
‘Is mightie, and most reverend, as one that nourisht me
When Griefe consum'd me, being cast from heaven by want of shame
In my proud mother, who because she brought me forth so lame
Would have me made away. And then had I bene much distrest
Had Thetis and Eurynome in either's silver breast
Not rescu'd me—Eurynome, that to her father had
Reciprocall Oceanus. Nine yeares with them I made
A number of well-arted things, round bracelets, buttons brave,
Whistles, and Carquenets. My forge stood in a hollow Cave,
About which (murmuring with fome) th' unmeasur'd Ocean
Was ever beating, my abode knowne nor to god nor man
But Thetis and Eurymone, and they would see me still:
They were my loving guardians. Now then the starry hill,
And our particular roofe, thus grac't with bright-hair'd Thetis here,
It fits me alwaies to repay a recompence as deare
To her thoughts as my life to me. Haste, Charis, and appose
Some daintie guest-rites to our friend, while I my bellowes lose
From fire and lay up all my tooles.’ Then from an anvile rose
Th' unweildy Monster, halted downe, and all awry he went.
He tooke his bellowes from the fire, and every instrument
Lockt safe up in a silver chest. Then with a sponge he drest
His face all over, necke and hands, and all his hairie breast,
Put on his Cote, his Scepter tooke, and then went halting forth,
Handmaids of gold attending him—resembling in all worth
Living yong damzels, fild with minds and wisedome, and were train'd
In all immortall ministrie, virtue and voice contain'd,
And mov'd with voluntarie powres. And these still waited on
Their fierie Soveraigne, who (not apt to walke) sate neare the throne
Of faire-hair'd Thetis, tooke her hand, and thus he courted her:
‘For what affaire, O faire-train'd Queene, reverend to me and deare,
Is our Court honord with thy state, that hast not heretofore
Perform'd this kindnesse? Speake thy thoughts; thy suite can be no more
Than my mind gives me charge to grant. Can my powre get it wrought?
Or that it have not onely powre of onely act in thought?’
She thus: ‘O Vulcan, is there one, of all that are of heaven,
That in her never-quiet mind Saturnius hath given
So much affliction as to me?—whom onely he subjects
(Of all the Sea-Nymphs) to a man, and makes me beare th' affects
Of his fraile bed, and all against the freedome of my will,
And he worne to his roote with age. From him another ill
Ariseth to me. Jupiter, you know, hath given a sonne
(The excellentst of men) to me, whose education,
On my part, well hath answered his owne worth, having growne,
As in a fruitfull soyle a tree that puts not up alone
His body to a naked height but joyntly gives his growth
A thousand branches. Yet to him so short a life I brought
That never I shall see him more return'd to Peleus' Court.
And all that short life he hath spent in most unhappy sort.
For first he wonne a worthy Dame, and had her by the hands
Of all the Grecians; yet this Dame Atrides countermands:
For which in much disdaine he mourn'd, and almost pin'd away.
And yet for this wrong he receiv'd some honor, I must say,
The Greeks being shut up at their ships, not sufferd to advance
A head out of their batterd sternes, and mightie suppliance
By all their grave men hath bene made, gifts, honors, all proposde
For his reflection; yet he still kept close, and saw enclosde
Their whole host in this generall plague. But now his friend put on
His armes, being sent by him to field and many a Myrmidon
In conduct of him. All the day they fought before the gates
Of Scæa; and most certainly that day had seene the dates
Of all Troy's honors in her dust, if Phœbus (having done
Much mischiefe more) the envyed life of good Menœtius' sonne
Had not with partiall hands enforc't, and all the honor given
To Hector, who hath prisd his armes. And therefore I am driven
T' embrace thy knees for new defence to my lov'd sonne. Ahlas,
His life prefixt so short a date had need spend that with grace.
A shield then for him, and a helme, faire greaves, and curets such
As may renowne thy workmanship and honor him as much,
I sue for at thy famous hands.’ ‘Be confident,’ said he,
‘Let these wants breed thy thoughts no care. I would it lay in me
To hide him from his heavy death when Fate shall seeke for him,
As well as with renowned armes to fit his goodly limme—
Which thy hands shall convey to him, and all eyes shall admire.
See, and desire againe to see, thy satisfied desire.’
This said, he left her there, and forth did to his bellows go,
Apposde them to the fire againe, commanding them to blow.
Through twenty holes made to his harth at once blew twenty paire,
That fir'd his coles, sometimes with soft, sometimes with vehement ayre,
As he will'd and his worke requir'd. Amids the flame he cast
Tin, Silver, precious Gold and Brasse, and in the stocke he plac't
A mightie anvile; his right hand a weightie hammer held,
His left his tongs. And first he forg'd a strong and spacious shield
Adornd with twenty severall hewes: about whose verge he beate
A ring, three-fold and radiant, and on the backe he set
A silver handle; five-fold were the equall lines he drew
About the whole circumference, in which his hand did shew
(Directed with a knowing mind) a rare varietie.
For in it he presented earth, in it, the sea and skie,
In it, the never-wearied Sunne, the Moone exactly round
And all those starres with which the browes of ample heaven are crownd—
Orion, all the Pleiades, and those seven Atlas got,
The close-beam'd Hyades, the Beare, surnam'd the Chariot,
That turnes about heaven's axeltree, holds ope a constant eye
Upon Orion; and, of all the Cressets in the skie,
His golden forehead never bowes to th' Ocean Emperie.
Two cities in the spacious shield he built with goodly state
Of diverse-languag'd men. The one did nuptials celebrate,
Observing at them solemne feasts; the Brides from foorth their bowres
With torches usherd through the streets, a world of Paramours
Excited by them; youths and maides in lovely circles danc't,
To whom the merrie Pipe and Harpe their spritely sounds advanc't,
The matrones standing in their dores admiring. Otherwhere
A solemne Court of law was kept, where throngs of people were.
The case in question was a fine imposde on one that slue
The friend of him that follow'd it and for the fine did sue,
Which th' other pleaded he had paide. The adverse part denied,
And openly affirm'd he had no penny satisfied.
Both put it to arbiterment. The people cryed twas best
For both parts, and th' Assistants too gave their doomes like the rest.
The Heralds made the people peace. The Seniors then did beare
The voicefull Heralds' scepters, sate within a sacred sphere
On polisht stones, and gave by turnes their sentence. In the Court
Two talents gold were cast for him that judg'd in justest sort.
The other citie other warres employ'd as busily.
Two armies glittering in armes, of one confederacie,
Besieg'd it, and a parle had with those within the towne.
Two wayes they stood resolv'd—to see the citie overthrowne,
Or that the citizens should heape in two parts all their wealth
And give them halfe. They neither lik't, but arm'd themselves by stealth,
Left all their old men, wives and boyes behind to man their wals,
And stole out to their enemie's towne. The Queene of martials
And Mars himselfe conducted them, both which, being forg'd of gold,
Must needs have golden furniture, and men might so behold
They were presented deities. The people Vulcan forg'd
Of meaner mettall. When they came where that was to be urg'd
For which they went, within a vale close to a flood, whose streame
Usde to give all their cattell drinke, they there enambusht them,
And sent two scouts out to descrie when th' enemie's heards and sheepe
Were setting out. They strait came forth, with two that usde to keepe
Their passage alwayes; both which pip't and went on merrily,
Nor dream'd of Ambuscados there. The Ambush then let flie,
Slue all their white fleec't sheepe and neate, and by them laid their guard.
When those in siege before the towne so strange an uprore heard
Behind, amongst their flocks and heards (being then in counsell set)
They then start up, tooke horse, and soone their subtle enemie met,
Fought with them on the river's shore, where both gave mutuall blowes
With well-pil'd darts. Amongst them all perverse Contention rose,
Amongst them Tumult was enrag'd, amongst them ruinous Fate
Had her red finger; some they tooke in an unhurt estate,
Some hurt yet living, some quite slaine—and those they tug'd to them
By both the feete, strip't off and tooke their weeds, with all the streame
Of blood upon them that their steeles had manfully let out.
They far'd as men alive indeed, drew dead indeed about.
To these the fierie Artizan did adde a new-ear'd field,
Large and thrice plowd, the soyle being soft and of a wealthy yeeld;
And many men at plow he made that drave earth here and there
And turnd up stitches orderly; at whose end when they were,
A fellow ever gave their hands full cups of luscious wine,
Which emptied, for another stitch the earth they undermine,
And long till th' utmost bound be reacht of all the ample Close.
The soyle turnd up behind the plow, all blacke like earth arose,
Though forg'd of nothing else but gold, and lay in show as light
As if it had bene plowd indeed, miraculous to sight.
There grew by this a field of corne, high, ripe, where reapers wrought,
And let thicke handfuls fall to earth, for which some other brought
Bands, and made sheaves. Three binders stood and tooke the handfuls reapt
From boyes that gatherd quickly up, and by them armefuls heapt.
Amongst these at a furrowe's end the king stood pleasd at heart,
Said no word, but his scepter shewd. And from him, much apart,
His harvest Bailiffes underneath an Oke a feast prepar'd,
And, having kild a mightie Oxe, stood there to see him shar'd,
Which women for their harvest folks (then come to sup) had drest,
And many white wheate-cakes bestow'd, to make it up a feast.
He set neare this a vine of gold that crackt beneath the weight
Of bunches blacke with being ripe; to keepe which, at the height,
A silver raile ranne all along, and round about it flow'd
An azure mote, and to this guard a quick-set was bestow'd
Of Tin, one onely path to all, by which the pressemen came
In time of vintage: youths and maids, that bore not yet the flame
Of manly Hymen, baskets bore of grapes and mellow fruite.
A lad that sweetly toucht a harpe, to which his voice did suite,
Centerd the circles of that youth, all whose skill could not do
The wanton's pleasure to their minds, that danc't, sung, whistl'd too.
A herd of Oxen then he carv'd with high-raisd heads, forg'd all
Of Gold and Tin (for colour mixt), and bellowing from their stall
Rusht to their pastures at a flood, that eccho'd all their throtes,
Exceeding swift and full of reeds. And all in yellow cotes,
Foure heardsmen follow'd; after whom nine Mastives went. In head
Of all the heard, upon a Bull, that deadly bellowed,
Two horrid Lions rampt, and seisd, and tugg'd off bellowing still.
Both men and dogs came, yet they tore the hide and lapt their fill
Of blacke blood, and the entrailes eate. In vaine the men assayd
To set their dogs on: none durst pinch, but curre-like stood and bayd
In both the faces of their kings, and all their onsets fled.
Then in a passing pleasant vale the famous Artsman fed
(Upon a goodly pasture ground) rich flocks of white-fleec't sheepe,
Built stables, cottages and cotes, that did the sheapheards keepe
From winde and weather. Next to these he cut a dancing place
All full of turnings, that was like the admirable maze
For faire-hair'd Ariadne made by cunning Dædalus;
And in it youths and virgins danc't, all yong and beautious,
And glewed in another's palmes. Weeds that the winde did tosse
The virgines wore, the youths, woven cotes that cast a faint dimme glosse,
Like that of oyle. Fresh garlands too the virgines' temples crownd;
The youths guilt swords wore at their thighs, with silver bawdricks bound.
Sometimes all wound close in a ring, to which as fast they spunne
As any wheele a Turner makes, being tried how it will runne
While he is set; and out againe, as full of speed, they wound,
Not one left fast or breaking hands. A multitude stood round,
Delighted with their nimble sport: to end which, two begun
(Mids all) a song, and, turning, sung the sport's conclusion.
All this he circl'd in the shield, with pouring round about
(In all his rage) the Ocean, that it might never out.
This shield thus done, he forg'd for him such curets as outshin'd
The blaze of fire. A helmet then (through which no steele could find
Forc't passage) he composde, whose hue a hundred colours tooke;
And in the crest a plume of gold, that each breath stirr'd, he stucke.
All done, he all to Thetis brought, and held all up to her.
She tooke them all, and like t' the hawke (surnam'd the Osspringer),
From Vulcan to her mightie sonne, with that so glorious show,
Stoopt from the steepe Olympian hill, hid in eternall snow.