Hero and Leander
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First Sestiad
On Hellespont, guilty of true-love's blood,In view and opposite two cities stood,Sea-borderers, 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 stroveTo please the careless and disdainful eyesOf 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 leavesWhose workmanship both man and beast deceives.Many would praise the sweet smell as she passed,When 'twas the odour 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 windWould burn or parch her hands, but to her mind,Or warm or cool them, for they took delightTo 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 pinedAnd 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 noneFor 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 vent'rous youth of GreeceTo 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 surpassedThe white of Pelop's shoulder. I could tell yeHow smooth his breast was and how white his belly;And whose immortal fingers did imprintThat heavenly path with many a curious dintThat runs along his back, but my rude penCan hardly blazon forth the loves of men,Much less of powerful gods. Let it sufficeThat my slack Muse sings of Leander's eyes,Those orient cheeks and lips, exceeding hisThat leaped into the water for a kissOf his own shadow and, despising many,Died ere he could enjoy the love of any.Had wild Hippolytus Leander seenEnamoured of his beauty had he been.His presence made the rudest peasant meltThat in the vast uplandish country dwelt.The barbarous Thracian soldier, moved with nought,Was moved with him and for his favour 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 guestTo meet their loves.Such as had none at all,Came lovers home from this great festival.For every street like to a firmamentGlistered with breathing stars who, where they went,Frighted the melancholy earth which deemedEternal heaven to burn, for so it seemed,As if another Phaeton had gotThe guidance of the sun's rich chariot.But far above the loveliest Hero shinedAnd 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 wat'ry star(When yawning dragons draw her thirling carFrom Latmus' mount up to the gloomy skyWhere, crowned with blazing light and majesty,She proudly sits) more overrules the floodThan 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 amainFrom steep pine-bearing mountains to the plain.So ran the people forth to gaze upon her,And all that viewed her were enamoured 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 favours 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 deniedPin'd as they went, and thinking on her died.On this feast day, O cursed day and hour,Went Hero thorough Sestos from her towerTo Venus' temple, where unhappilyAs after chanced, they did each other spy.So fair a church as this had Venus none.The walls were of discoloured jasper stoneWherein was Proteus carved, and o'erheadA 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 shapesCommitting heady riots, incest, rapes.For know, that underneath this radiant floorWas 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 netWhich limping Vulcan and his Cyclops set;Love kindling fire to burn such towns as Troy;Sylvanus weeping for the lovely boyThat 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 enamoured.Stone still he stood, and evermore he gazedTill with the fire that from his countenance blazedRelenting 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 beginWe wish that one should lose, the other win.And one especially do we affectOf two gold ingots like in each respect.The reason no man knows; let it sufficeWhat 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 uponBreathed darkness forth (dark night is Cupid's day).And now begins Leander to displayLove'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 offence.I would my rude words had the influenceTo lead thy thoughts as thy fair looks do mine,Then shouldst thou be his prisoner, who is thine.Be not unkind and fair; misshapen stuffAre of behaviour 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 descendingFrom 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 surpassAs 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 hereWho 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 mineAnd basest mould, but use? For both, not used,Are of like worth. Then treasure is abusedWhen 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 gateShall 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 himselfIn heaping up a mass of drossy pelf,Than such as you. His golden earth remainsWhich, 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 skyAll 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 isWe human creatures should enjoy that bliss.One is no number; maids are nothing thenWithout 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 virginityIs neither essence subject to the eyeNo, nor to any one exterior sense,Nor hath it any place of residence,Nor is't of earth or mould 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 honour be ascribed thereto;Honour is purchased by the deeds we do.Believe me, Hero, honour is not wonUntil some honourable 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 notSo 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 aloneSome one or other keeps you as his own.Then, Hero, hate me not nor from me flyTo 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 brakeA stream of liquid pearl, which down her faceMade milk-white paths, whereon the gods might traceTo Jove's high court.He thus replied: "The ritesIn which love's beauteous empress most delightsAre banquets, Doric music, midnight revel,Plays, masks, and all that stern age counteth evil.Thee as a holy idiot doth she scornFor thou in vowing chastity hast swornTo rob her name and honour, and therebyCommitt'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 stillAnd 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 abhorAnd yet I like them for the orator."With that Leander stooped to have embraced herBut from his spreading arms away she cast her,And thus bespake him: "Gentle youth, forbearTo touch the sacred garments which I wear.Upon a rock and underneath a hillFar 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 MorpheusIn 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 colour 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 partStrove to resist the motions of her heart.And hands so pure, so innocent, nay, suchAs might have made heaven stoop to have a touch,Did she uphold to Venus, and againVowed 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 destiniesLaden with languishment and grief he flies,And to those stern nymphs humbly made requestBoth 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 muchAs 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 laidEnchanted Argus, spied a country maidWhose careless hair instead of pearl t'adorn itGlistered 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 dwellsIn towered courts is oft in shepherds' cells.)And too too well the fair vermilion knew,And silver tincture of her cheeks, that drewThe love of every swain. On her this godEnamoured was, and with his snaky rodDid charm her nimble feet, and made her stay,The while upon a hillock down he layAnd sweetly on his pipe began to play,And with smooth speech her fancy to assay,Till in his twining arms he locked her fastAnd then he wooed with kisses; and at last,As shepherds do, her on the ground he laidAnd, tumbling in the grass, he often strayedBeyond the bounds of shame, in being boldTo eye those parts which no eye should behold.And, like an insolent commanding loverBoasting his parentage, would needs discoverThe way to new Elysium, but she,Whose only dower was her chastity,Having striv'n in vain was now about to cryAnd crave the help of shepherds that were nigh.Herewith he stayed his fury, and beganTo give her leave to rise. Away she ran;After went Mercury who used such cunningAs 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 gladThat she such loveliness and beauty hadAs could provoke his liking, yet was muteAnd neither would deny nor grant his suit.Still vowed he love. She, wanting no excuseTo feed him with delays, as women use,Or thirsting after immortality, -All women are ambitious naturally -Imposed upon her lover such a taskAs 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 furiousThan 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 equallyTo dote upon deceitful Mercury.They offered him the deadly fatal knifeThat shears the slender threads of human life.At his fair feathered feet the engines laidWhich th' earth from ugly Chaos' den upweighed.These he regarded not but did entreatThat 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 againSaturn 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 gotHe reckless of his promise did despiseThe love of th' everlasting Destinies.They seeing it both love and him abhorredAnd Jupiter unto his place restored.And but that Learning in despite of FateWill mount aloft and enter heaven gateAnd 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 concludedThat Midas' brood shall sit in honour'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 joyBut 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.(The end of the First Sestiad)Second Sestiad
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 findTo 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 flightHer painted fan of curled plumes let fall,Thinking to train Leander therewithal.He, being a novice, knew not what she meantBut stayed, and after her a letter sent,Which joyful Hero answered in such sort,As he had hope to scale the beauteous fortWherein 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 timeHad 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 greetingThese 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 repentedAnd turned aside, and to herself lamentedAs if her name and honour had been wrongedBy being possessed of him for whom she longed.Ay, and she wished, albeit not from her heartThat he would leave her turret and depart.The mirthful god of amorous pleasure smiledTo 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 goesAnd, like light Salmacis, her body throwsUpon his bosom where with yielding eyesShe offers up herself a sacrificeTo slake his anger if he were displeased.O, what god would not therewith be appeased?Like Aesop's cock this jewel he enjoyedAnd as a brother with his sister toyedSupposing nothing else was to be done,Now he her favour and good will had won.But know you not that creatures wanting senseBy 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 intellectSome hidden influence breeds like effect.Albeit Leander rude in love and raw,Long dallying with Hero, nothing sawThat might delight him more, yet he suspectedSome 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 strivedThe more a gentle pleasing heat revived,Which taught him all that elder lovers know.And now the same gan so to scorch and glowAs 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 itAnd ever, as he thought himself most nigh it,Like to the tree of Tantalus, she fledAnd, 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 yieldSo 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 longAll 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 weptSaying, "Let your vows and promises be kept."Then standing at the door she turned aboutAs 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 concealedLeander's amorous habit soon revealed.With Cupid's myrtle was his bonnet crowned,About his arms the purple riband woundWherewith she wreathed her largely spreading hair.Nor could the youth abstain, but he must wearThe sacred ring wherewith she was endowedWhen first religious chastity she vowed.Which made his love through Sestos to be known,And thence unto Abydos sooner blownThan he could sail; for incorporeal fameWhose weight consists in nothing but her name,Is swifter than the wind, whose tardy plumesAre 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 violenceHe would have chased away the swelling mainThat him from her unjustly did detain.Like as the sun in a diameterFires 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 beenAnd 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 disdainsTo have his head controlled, but breaks the reins,Spits forth the ringled bit, and with his hoovesChecks 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 HellespontTo part in twain, that he might come and go;But still the rising billows answered, "No."With that he stripped him to the ivory skinAnd, 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 groundWas strewed with pearl, and in low coral grovesSweet singing mermaids sported with their lovesOn heaps of heavy gold, and took great pleasureTo spurn in careless sort the shipwrack treasure.For here the stately azure palace stoodWhere 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 swimAnd, 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 playedAnd, smiling wantonly, his love bewrayed.He watched his arms and, as they opened wideAt every stroke, betwixt them would he slideAnd 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 pryUpon 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 faunsWould steal him thence. Ere half this tale was done,"Ay me," Leander cried, "th' enamoured sunThat 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 hitAs meaning to be venged for darting it.When this fresh bleeding wound Leander viewed,His colour went and came, as if he ruedThe grief which Neptune felt. In gentle breastsRelenting 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 prevailsWhen 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 notTill to the solitary tower he got,And knocked and called. At which celestial noiseThe longing heart of Hero much more joysThan nymphs and shepherds when the timbrel rings,Or crooked dolphin when the sailor sings.She stayed not for her robes but straight aroseAnd, 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 drawnBy 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 setThe drooping thoughts of base declining soulsThan 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 assayedTo 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 breastBreathless spoke something, and sighed out the rest;Which so prevailed, as he with small adoEnclosed 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 thatWhich made the world) another world begatOf 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 heThat 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 daylightShould know the pleasure of this blessed night,And them, like Mars and Erycine, displayBoth 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 tookThat 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 mightA kind of twilight break, which through the hair,As from an orient cloud, glimpsed here and there,And round about the chamber this false mornBrought 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 tookThan Dis, on heaps of gold fixing his look.By this, Apollo's golden harp beganTo sound forth music to the ocean,Which watchful Hesperus no sooner heardBut he the bright day-bearing car preparedAnd 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.(The end of the Second Sestiad)