Classic Poem

The Delphic Oracle

Thy elder care shall from thy careful face
By princely mean be stol'n and yet not lost;
Thy younger shall with Nature's bliss embrace
An uncouth love, which Nature hateth most
Thou with thy wife adult'ry shalt commit,
And in thy throne a foreign state shall sit
All this on thee this fatal year shall hit.

Cleophila

Transformed in show, but more transformed in mind,
I cease to strive, with double conquest foiled;
For (woe is me) my powers all I find
With outward force and inward treason spoiled

For from without came to mine eyes the blow
Whereto mine inward thoughts did faintly yield;
Both these conspired poor reason's overthrow;
False in myself, thus have I lost the field

And thus mine eyes are placed still in one sight,
And thus my thoughts can think but one thing still;
Thus reason to his servants gives his right;
Thus is my power transformed to your will
What marvel, then, I take a woman's hue,
Since what I see, think, know, is all but you?

Alethes

What length of verse can serve brave Mopsa 's good to show,
Whose virtues strange, and beauties such, as no man them may know?
Thus shrewdly burdened then, how can my Muse escape?
The gods must help and precious things must serve to show her shape.
Like great god Saturn fair, and like fair Venus chaste;
As smooth as Pan , as Juno mild, like goddess Iris fast;
With Cupid she foresees, and goes god Vulcan 's pace;
And for a taste of all these gifts, she borrows Momus ' grace.
Her forehead jacinth-like, her cheeks of opal hue,
Her twinkling eyes bedecked with pearl, her lips of sapphire blue;
Her hair pure crapal-stone, her mouth O heav'nly wide,
Her skin like burnished gold, her hands like silver ore untried.
As for those parts unknown, which hidden sure are best,
Happy be they which will believe, and never seek the rest.

Dorus

Come shepherd's weeds, become your master's mind:
Yield outward show, what inward change he tries:
Nor be abashed, since such a guest you find,
Whose strongest hope in your weak comfort lies.

Come shepherd's weeds, attend my woeful cries:
Disuse yourselves from sweet Menalcas ' voice:
For other be those tunes which sorrow ties
From those clear notes which freely may rejoice.
Then pour out plaint, and in one word say this:
Helpless his plaint who spoils himself of bliss.

Dametas

Now thanked be the great god Pan
That thus preserves my loved life:
Thanked be I that keep a man
Who ended hath this fearful strife:
So if my man must praises have,
What then must I that keep the knave?

For as the moon the eye doth please
With gentle beams not hurting sight,
Yet hath sir sun the greatest praise
Because from him doth come her light:
So if my man must praises have,
What then must I that keep the knave?