By this time had Anaxus ta'en his leave
Of his kind Sister, that afresh can grieve
For his departure, she intreats in vain,
And spends her tears to wash him back again,
But 'twould not be; he leaves her to her woes,
And in the search of his Clarinda goes.
He scarce had travel'd two days journey thence,
When hying to a shade, for his defence
'Gainst the Suns scorching heat, who then began
T' approach the point of the Meridian:
Within a little silent Grove hard by
Upon a small ascent, he might espy
A stately Chappel, richly gilt without,
Beset with shady Sycamores about:
And ever and anon he might well hear
A sound of Musick steal in at his ear
As the wind gave it being: so sweet an Air
Would strike a Syren mute and ravish her.
He sees no creature that might cause the same,
But he was sure that from the Grove it came.
And to the Grove he goes to satisfie
The curiosity of Ear and Eye.
Through the thick leav'd Boughs he makes a way,
Nor could the scratching Brambles make him stay;
But on he rushes, and climbs up the Hill,
Thorow a glade he saw, and heard his fill
A hundred Virgins there he might espy
Prostrate before a Marble Deity:
Which by its Portraicture appear'd to be
The image of Diana: on their knee
They tender'd their Devotions: with sweet Airs,
Off'ring the Incense of their Praise and Prayers.
Their Garments all alike; beneath their Paps
Buckl'd together with a silver Claps,
And cross their snowy Silken Robes, they wore
An Azure Scarf, with Stars Embroider'd o're.
Their Hair in curious Tresses was knit up,
Crown'd with a Silver Crescent on the top.
A Silver Bow their left hand held, their right
For their defence, held a sharp headed flight
Drawn from their broidred Quiver, neatly ti'd
In Silken Cords, and fastned to their side.
Under their Vestments something short before
White Buskins lac'd with ribbanding they wore.
It was a catching sight for a young eye,
That Love had fir'd before, he might espy
One, whom the rest had sphere-like circled round,
Whose head was with a golden Chaplet crown'd.
He could not see her Face, only his ear
Was blest with the sweet words that came from her.
He was about removing; when a crew
Of lawless Thieves their horny Trumpets blew,
And from behind the Temple unawares
Rush'd in upon them, busie at their Prayers.
The Virgins to their weak resistance flie,
And made a show as if they meant to try
The mastery by opposing; but poor souls
They soon gave back, and ran away in shoals.
Yet some were taken, such as scorn of fear
Had left behind to fortifie the rear.
'Mongst whom their Queen was one, a braver Maid
Anaxus ne're beheld; she su'd and pray'd
For life, to those that had no pity left,
Unless in murthering those they had bereft
Of honor. This incens'd Anaxus rage,
And in he rusht, unlookt for on that stage:
Then out his Sword he draws, and dealt such blows
That strook amazement in his numerous foes.
Twenty to one there were, too great an odds,
Had not his cause drawn succor from the gods.
The first he coapt with was their Captain, whom
His Sword sent headless to seek out a Tomb.
This cowarded the valour of the rest,
A second drops to make the Worms a Feast,
A third and fourth soon follow'd, six he slew,
And so dismaid the fearful residue,
That down the Hill they fled: he after hies
And fell another Villain, as he flies.
To the thick Wood he chac'd them, 'twas in vain
To follow further; up the Hill again
Weary Anaxus climbs, in hope to find
The rescu'd Virgins he had left behind.
But all were gone; fear lent them wings, and they
Fled to their home affrighted any way.
They durst not stay to hazard the event
Of such a doubtful combat; yet they lent
Him many a Pray'r to bring on good success,
And thankt him for his noble hardiness,
That freed them from the danger they were in,
And met the shock himself; the Virgin-Queen
Full little dreamt, what Champion Love had brought
To rescue her bright honor; had she thought
It had Anaxus been, she would have shar'd
In the Adventure how so e're she far'd.
But fate was not so pleas'd, the Youth was sad
To see all gone: the many Wounds he had
Griev'd him not so, as that he did not know
Her for whose sake he had adventur'd so.
Yet was he glad who e're she was, that he
Had come so luckily to set them free
From such a certain thraldom; night drew on
And his Wounds smarted: no Chirurgeon
Was near at hand to bind them up, and pour
His balmy Medicines into his Sore:
And surely he had dy'd, but that his heart
Was yet too stout to yield for want of Art.
Looking about upon a small ascent
He spy'd an old Thatcht-House, all to be rent
And eaten out by time, and the foul weather,
Or rather seem'd a piece of ruine; thither
Anaxus faintly hies, and in the way
He meets with old Sylvanus , who they say
Had skill in Augury, and could foretel
Th' event of things: he came then from his Cell
To gather a few Herbs and Roots; the Cates
He fed upon: Anaxus him entreats
To bind his Wounds up, and with care t'apply
Unto his Sores some wholsome remedy,
A trim old man he was, though Age had plow'd
Up many Wrinkles in his Brow, and bow'd
His Body somewhat tow'rd the Earth; his Hairs
Like the Snows woolly flakes made white with cares,
The Thorns that now and then pluckt off the Doun,
And wore away for Baldness to a Crown:
His broad kemb'd Beard hung down near to his Wast,
The only comely ornament that grac'd
His reverend old age, his feet were bare,
But for his leathern Sandals, which he ware
To keep them clean from galling, which compell'd
Him use a staff to help him to the Field.
He durst not trust his legs, they fail'd him then,
And he was almost grown a child agen:
Yet sound in judgment, not impair'd in mind,
For Age had rather the Souls parts refin'd,
Than any way infirm'd; his Wit no less
Than 'twas in Youth, his Memory as fresh;
He fail'd in nothing but his earthly part,
That tended to its center; yet his heart
Was still the same, and beat as lustily:
For as it first took life, it would last die.
Upon the Youth with greedy eye he gaz'd,
And on his Staff himself a little rais'd;
When with a tear or two with pity prest,
From his dry Springs, he welcomes his request.
He needs not much intreaty to do good,
But having washt his Wounds and stancht the Blood,
He pours in oyly Balsam; fits his clothes,
And with soft Tents he stops their gaping mouths;
Then binds them up, and with a chearful look
Welcomes his thankful Patient, whom he took
Home with him to his Cell; whose poor out-side
Promis'd as mean a Lodging; Pomp and Pride
(Those Peacocks of the time) ne're roosted there,
Content and lowliness the inmates were.
It was not so contemptible within,
There was some show of beauty that had been
Made much of in old time; but now well-nigh
Worn out with envious time; a curious eye
Might see some reliques of a piece of Art,
That Psyche made, when Love first fir'd her heart.
It was the story of her thoughts, which she
Curiously wrought in lively imagry.
Among the rest, the thought of Jealousie
Time left untoucht, to grace Antiquity.
It was decifer'd by a timorous Dame,
Wrapt in a yellow Mantle lin'd with flame:
Her looks were pale, contracted with a frown,
Her eyes suspicious, wand'ring up and down;
Behind her, fear attended big with child,
Able to fright presumption, if she smil'd.
After her flew a sigh, between two springs
Of briny water; on her Dove-like wings
She bore a Letter seal'd with a Half-Moon,
And superscrib'd, This from suspicion .
More than this, churlish time had left no thing
To shew the piece was Psyches broidering.
Hither Sylvanus brings him, and with Cates,
Such as our wants may buy at easie rates
He feasts his Guest; hunger and sweet content
Sucks from course Fare, a courtly nourishment.
When they had supt, they talk an hour or two,
And each the other questions how things go.
Sylvanus askt him how he came so hurt,
Anaxus tells him; and, this sad report
Spins out a long discourse: the Youth enquir'd
What Maids they were he rescu'd, why so tir'd:
What Saint it was they worshipt, whence the Thieves,
And who that Virgin was, that he conceives
Was Queen and Sovereign Lady of the rest.
Sylvanus willing to content his Guest,
After a little pause, in a grave tone,
Thus courteously reply'd; quoth he, My Son,
To tell a sad relation will, I fear,
Prove but unseasonable; a young ear
Will relish it but harshly; yet since you
Desire so much to hear it, I shall do
My best to answer your desires in all
That Truth hath warranted authentical.
You are not such a stranger to the State,
But you have heard of Hylas , who of late
Backt by some Fugitives, with a strong hand,
Wrested the Crown and Scepter of this Land
From the true Owner; this same Hylas when
He had what his Ambition aim'd at; then
When he grew wearied with conquering
His native Countrymen, and as a King
Sate himself down to tast what fate had drest
And serv'd up to him at a plenteous Feast.
When the lowd clangors of these civil broils
Were laid aside, and each man view'd the spoils
He had unjustly gotten, and in peace
Securely dwelt with idleness and ease;
Those Moths that fret, and eat into a State
Until they render it the scorn of fate.
Hylas puft up with pride, and self-conceit
Of his own Valour that had made him great,
In Riot and Lasciviousness he spends
His precious hours, and through the Kingdom sends
His pand'ring Parasites to seek out gain,
To quench th' unmaster'd fury of his flame.
His Agents were so cunning, many a Maid
Were to their honors loss subtilly betray'd
With gifts, and golden promises of that
Which womanish ambition level'd at,
Greatness and Honor; but they mist their aim,
Their hopeful harvest prov'd a crop of shame.
Amongst the many Beauties that his Spies
Markt out, to offer up a sacrifice
Unto his lust, the beauteous Florimel
Was one, whose vertue had no paralel:
She is old Memnon 's Daughter, who of late
Was banisht from his Country, and by fate
Driven upon our Coast, and as I guess
He was of Lemnos fam'd for healthfulness,
Under this borrow'd name; for so it was
(Or else my Art doth fail me) he did pass
Unknown to any, in a Shepherds Weed
He shrowds his Honor, now content to feed
A flock of Sheep, that had fed men before.
“It is no wonder to see goodness poor.
It was his Daughter that the lustful King
Beast-like neigh'd after; still his flatt'rers sing
Oads of her praise to heighten his desires,
To swim to Pleasure through a Hell of Fires.
The tempting baits were laid, the Nets were spread,
And gilded o're to catch a Maiden-head;
But all in vain, Eugenia would not bite,
Nor sell her honor for a base delight.
He speaks in Letters a dumb eloquence
That takes the heart before it reach the sence.
But they were slighted, Letters that speak sin
Virtue sends back in scorn: he writes agen,
And is again repulst, he comes himself
And desp'rately casts Anchor on the shelf
Of his own power and greatnes, toles her on
To come abord to her destruction:
But she was deaf unto his Syren Charms,
Made wisely wary by anothers harms.
Her strong repulses were like Oyl to fires,
Strength'ning th' increasing heat of his desires.
With mild intreats he woes her, and doth swear
How that his Loves intendments noble were;
And if she'd love him, he protests and vows
To make her Queen of all the State he owes.
But she was fix'd, and her resolves so strong,
She vow'd to meet with death, rather than wrong
Him unto whom her Maiden Faith was plight;
And he's no mean one, if my aim hits right.
When Hylas saw no cunning would prevail
To make her his, his angry looks waxt pale,
His heart call'd home the blood to feed revenge,
That there sate plotting to work out his ends.
At length it hatcht this mischief; Memnon 's bid
To chide his Daughters coyness; so he did,
And she became the bolder, chid his checks,
And answer'd his injunctions with neglects.
Whereat the King enrag'd, laid hands upon her,
And was a dragging her to her dishonour.
When Memnon 's Servants at their Mistris cry
Rusht in and rescu'd her, 'twas time to flie,
Hylas had else met with a just reward
For his foul lust: he had a slender guard,
And durst not stand the hazard: Memnon 's men
Would have pursu'd, but they came off agen
At Memnon 's call: the woful Florimel ,
(For so her name was) on the pavement fell,
Waiting the stroke of Death, life was about
To leave her had not Memnon found her out.
Anaxus all this while gave heedful ear
To what he spake, and lent him many a tear
To point out the full stops of his discourse;
But that he calls her Florimel , the force
Of his strong passions had persuaded him
It had been his Clarinda , (as in time
The story makes her;) spare thy tears my Son
Said old Sylvanus ; so his tale went on.
These are but sad beginnings of events
Spun out to sorrows height; the foul intents
Of Hylas being frustrate, and his fires
Wanting no fuel to increase desires;
He lays a snare to catch his Maiden prize
By murthering her old Father; and his spies
Were sent to find his haunt out: Memnon , he
Of old experienc'd in Court policy,
Wisely forecasts th'event, and studies how
He might prevent his mischiefs e're they grow
Too ripe, and near at hand to be put by
By all the art and strength he had; to dye
For him that now was old, he nothing car'd,
Death at no time finds goodness unprepar'd.
But how he might secure his Florimel ,
That thought most troubled him; he knew full well
She was the white was aimed at; were she sure,
He made but slight of what he might endure.
He was but yet a stranger to those friends
That his true worth had gain'd him, yet h' intends
To try some one of them; anon his fears
And jealous doubts call back those former cares.
He thinks on many ways for her defence;
But except Heav'n finds, none save innocence.
Memnon at last resolves next day to send her
To Vestas Cloyster, and there to commend her
Unto the Virgin Goddesses protection,
And to that purpose gave her such direction,
As fitted her to be a Vestal Nun,
And time seem'd tedious till the deed was done.
The fatal night before that wisht for day,
When Florimel was to be packt away,
Hylas besets the House with armed men,
Loth that his Lust should be deceiv'd agen.
At midnight they brake in, Memnon arose,
And e're he call'd his Servants, in he goes
Into his Daughters Chamber, and besmears
Her Breast and Hands with Blood; the rest her fears
Counsel her to; each hand took up a knife
T'oppose her foe, or let out her own life,
If need should be, to save her honor'd name
From Lusts black sullies, and ne're dying shame.
Memnon then calls his Servants, they arise,
And wanting light, they make their hands their eyes.
Like Sea-men in a Storm about they go,
At their wits end, not knowing what to do.
Down a Back Stairs they hurried to the Hall,
Where the most noise was; in they venter all,
And all were suddenly surpriz'd, in vain
Poor men they struggle to get loose again.
A very word was punish'd with a Wound,
Here they might see their aged Master bound,
And though too weak to make resistance found,
Wounded almost to death; his hoary hairs
Now near half worn away with age and cares,
Torn from his Head and Beard; he scorn'd to cry
Or beg for mercy from their cruelty.
He far'd the worse because he would not tell,
What was become of his fair Florimel .
She heard not this, though she set ope her ears
To listen to the whispers of her fears.
Sure had she heard how her good Father far'd,
Her very cries would have the doors unbar'd,
To let her out to plead his innocence;
But he had lockt her up in a close Room,
Free from suspicion, and 't had been her Tomb,
Had not the Fates prevented; search was made
In every corner, and great care was had,
Lest she should scape; but yet they mist the Lass:
They sought her every where but where she was.
Under the Bed there was a Trap-door made,
That open'd to a Room where Memnon laid
The Treasure and the jewels which he brought
From Lemnos with him: Round about they sought,
Under and o're the Bed; in Chests they pry,
And in each hole where scarce a Cat might lie;
But could not find the cunning contriv'd door
That open'd Bed and all: then down they tore
The painted Hangings, and survey the Walls,
Yet found no by-way out: Then Hylas calls
To know if they had found her; they reply,
She was not there: Then with a wrathful eye,
Looking on Memnon ; Doating fool (said he)
Wilt not thou tell me where she is: if she
Be in this house conceal'd, I have a way
Shall find her out; if thou hast mind to pray
Be speedy, thou hast not an hour to live.
I'le teach thee what it is for to deceive
Him that would honor thee: Would shame me rather,
Answered old Memnon , and undo a Father,
By shaming of his Daughter; Lustful King,
Call you this honor? death's not such a thing,
As can fright Memnon ; he and I have met
Up to the knees in Blood, and honor'd Sweat,
Where his Sythe mow'd down Legions, he and I
Are well acquainted; 'tis no news to die.
Do'st thou so brave it ( Hylas said) I'le try
What temper you are made on by and by.
Set fire upon the House, since you love death
I'le teach you a new way to let out breath.
This word strook Memnon mute, not that he fear'd
Death in what shape soever he appear'd;
But that his Daughter, whom as yet his care
Had kept from ravishing, should with him share
In such a bitter potion; this was that
Which more than Death afflicted him, that Fate
Should now exact a double Sacrifice,
And prove more cruel than his Enemies.
This strook him to the heart, the House was fir'd,
And his sad busie thoughts were welnigh tir'd
With studying what to do: when as a Post
That had out-rid report, brought news the Coast
Shin'd full of fired Beacons, how his Lords
Instead of Sleep betook themselves to Swords.
How that the Foe was near, and meant e're day
To make his Court and Treasury their prey.
How that the Soldiers were at their wits end
For th' absence of their King, and did intend,
Unless he did prevent them suddenly,
To choose a new one. Hylas fearfully
Did entertain this news, calls back his men,
And through by-paths he steals to Court agen,
Leaving the House on fire; the Thatch was wet,
And burnt but slowly: Memnon 's Servants get
Their Master loose, and with their Teeth unties
The bloody Cords that binds the Sacrifice,
That Fate was pleas'd to spare; they quench the fire,
Whilst he runs to his Daughter; both admire
Their little hop'd for wond'rous preservation,
Praising their Gods with fervent adoration.
Next day he shifts his Florimel away
Unto the Vestal Cloyster, there to stay
Till he heard how things went, and what success
Befel the Wars; his men themselves address,
At his command to wait upon the Wars,
To purchase freedom, or by Death, or Scars.
Memnon himself keeps home, attended on
But by a stubbed Boy; his Daughter gone,
His fears 'gan lessen: Hylas was o'rethrown,
And bold Alexis Conquest gain'd a Crown:
And worthily he wears it; with his Reign
Desired Peace stept on the Stage again.
The Laws were executed, justice done,
And civil Order staid Confusion.
Sloth and her sister Ease were banished,
And all must labor now to get their bread:
Yet Peace is not so setled, but we find
Some work for Swords; the Foe hath left behind
Some gleanings of his greater strength, that still
Commit great out-rages, that rob and kill
All that they meet with, ravishing chast Maids
Both of their Life and Honor; some such Lads
Were they that set upon that Virgin crew,
That were redeem'd so worthily by you.
A hundred Virgins monthly do frequent
Diana 's Temple, where with pure intent
They tender their Devotions: one is chose
By lot to be their Queen, to whom each owes
Her best respect, and for this month I guess
Their Queen was Florimel , now Votaress.
Sylvanus here brake off; 'twas late, and sleep
Like Lead hung on their eye lids; heav'n them keep.
We'l leave them to their rest a while, and tell
What to Thealma in this space befel.