The Paphian princesse (in whose lovely breast
Spiteful disdaine could never find a place)
When now she saw him from his fit releast,
(To Juno leaving wrath and scolding base,)
Comforts the trembling boy with smiling grace:
But oh! those smiles (too full of sweete delight)
Surfeit his heart, full of the former sight;
So, seeking to revive, more wounds his feeble sprite.
"Tell me, fair Boy! (sayd she) what erring chance
Hither directed thy unwary pace?
For sure Contempt or Pride durst not advance
Their foule aspéct in thy so pleasant face:
Tell me, what brought thee to this hidden place?
Or lacke of love, or mutuall answering fire?
Or hindred by ill chance in thy desire?
Tell me, what ist thy faire and wishing eyes require ?"
The boy (whose sence was never yet acquainted
With such a musique) stood with eares arected,
And, sweetly with that pleasant spell enchanted,
More of those sugred straines long time expected;
Till seeing she his speeches not rejected,
First sighes arising from his heart's low center,
Thus gan reply, when each word bold would venter,
And strive the first that dainty labyrinth to enter.
"Fair Cyprian Queene, (for well that heavenly face
Prooves thee the mother of all-conquering Love,)
Pardon, I pray thee, my unweeting pace ;
For no presumptuous thoughts did hither moove
My daring feete to this thy holy grove;
But lucklesse chance (which, if you not gaine-say,
I still must rue,) hath caus'd me here to stray,
And lose my selfe (alas !) in losing of my way.
"Nor did I come to right my wronged fire;
Never till now I saw what ought be loved;
And now I see, but never dare aspire
To moove my hope, where yet my love is mooved;
Whence though I would, I would it not remooved;
Only since I have plac't my love so high,
Which sure thou must, or sure thou wilt, deny,
Grant me yet still to love, though in my love to dye."
But shee that in his eyes Loves face had seen,
And flaming heart, did not such suite disdaine,
(For cruelty fits not sweete Beauties queene,)
But gently could his passion entertain,
Though she Loves princesse, he a lowly swain:
First of his bold intrusion she acquites him,
Then to her service (happy Boy !) admits him,
And, like another Love, with bow and quiver fits him.
And now with all the Loves he grew acquainted,
And Cupids selfe, with his like face delighted,
Taught him a hundred wayes with which he daunted
The prouder hearts, and wronged lovers righted,
Forcing to love that most his love despited:
And now the practique boy did so approove him,
And with such grace and cunning arte did moove him,
That all the pritty Loves and all the Graces love him.
The lovers sad despairing plaints
Bright Venus with his love acquaints ;
Sweetly importun'd, he doth shew
From whom proceedeth this his woe.
ET never durst his faint and coward heart
(Ah, Foole! faint heart faire lady ne're could win!)
Assaile faire Venus with his new-learnt arte,
But kept his love and burning flame within,
Which more flam'd out, the more he prest it in ;
And thinking oft how just shee might disdaine him,
While some cool mirtle shade did entertaine him,
Thus sighing would he sit, and sadly would he plain him:
"Ah, fond and haplesse Boy! nor know I whether 2 More fond or haplesse more, that all so high
Hast plac't thy heart, where love and fate together
May never hope to end thy misery,
Nor yet thy self dare wish a remedy:
All hindrances (alas!) conspire to let it;
Ah, fond, and hapless Boy! if canst not get it!
In thinking to forget, at length learne to forget it.
"Ah, farre too fond, but much more haplesse Swaine ! 3
Seeing thy love can be forgetten never,
Serve and observe thy love with willing paine;
And though in vaine thy love thou doe persever,
Yet all in vaine doe thou adore her ever.
No hope can crowne thy thoughts so farre aspiring,
Nor dares thy selfe desire thine owne desiring,
Yet live thou in her love, and dye in her admiring."
Thus oft the hopelesse boy complayning lyes;
But she, that well could guesse his sad lamenting,
(Who can conceal love from Loves mothers eyes?)
Did not disdaine to give his love contenting;
Cruel the soule that feeds on soules tormenting:
Nor did she scorne him, though not nobly borne,
(Love is nobility) nor could she scorne
That with so noble skill her title did adorne.
One day it chanc't, thrice happy day and chance!
While Loves were with the Graces sweetly sporting,
And to fresh musique sounding play and dance,
And Cupids selfe, with shepheards boyes consorting,
Laugh'd at their pritty sport and simple courting,
Faire Venus seats the fearfull boy close by her,
Where never Phabus jealous lookes might eye her,
And bids the boy his mistris and her name descry her.
Long time the youth bound up in silence stood,
While hope and feare with hundred thoughts begun
Fit prologue to his speech; and fearefull blood
From heart and face with these post-tydings runne,
That eyther now he's made, or now undon;
At length his trembling words, with feare made weake, Began his too long silence thus to breake,
While from his humble eies first reverence seem'd to
"Faire Queene of Love! my life thou maist command,
Too slender price for all thy former grace,
Which I receive at thy so bounteous hand;
But never dare I speak her name and face;
My life is much lesse-priz'd than her disgrace:
And, for I know if I her name relate
I purchase anger, I must hide her state,
Unlesse thou sweare by Stix I purchase not her hate."
Faire Venus well perceiv'd his subtile shift,
And, swearing gentle patience, gently smil'd,
While thus the boy persu'd his former drift:
"No tongue was ever yet so sweetly skil❜d,
Nor greatest orator so highly stil'd,
Though helpt with all the choicest artes direction,
But when he durst describe her heaven's perfection,
By his imperfect praise disprais'd his imperfection.
"Her forme is as her selfe, perfect cœlestriall,
No mortall spot her heavenly frame disgraces:
Beyond compare such nothing is terrestriall!
More sweete than thought or pow'rfull wish embraces;
The map of heaven, the summe of all her graces :
But if you wish more truely limb'd to eye her,
Than fainting speech or words can well descry her,
Look in a glasse, and there more perfect you may spy her."
|