Hiren: or The faire Greeke: By William Barksted, one of the seruants of his Maiesties reuels
Barksted, William, fl. 1611.
The second Tome.
LOng did this beautious martyr keep her faith,
Thinking that Mahomet was full of error:
Treading that high coelestiall milkie path,
Virginity, that did produce hels terror,
Yet knowing loue in Princes turnes to wrath,
She meanes to catch his fancies with her cunning:
But so resistlesse is this Princes feruor,
Though he imprison loue, still feares his cunning.
For like a Castle seated on a rocke,
Besieg'd by thousands danger each way spread,
That had withstood the battery of warres shock:
The liuing making bulwarkes of the dead.
So did this Virgins thoughts to her hart flock,
Wiuing her danger, when her powers were lost:
Hyrena will yeeld vp her maiden head,
A gift to make loue proud, or silence bost.
He gently woes her with the misers God,
The Indians ignorance, and vertues slaue,
Bright flaming gold, for where that ha's abode,
All doores flies open to the wish we craue.
Gold is mans mercy, and his makers rod,
She loues the King for honor and for riches,
He makes her eyes his heauen, her lap his graue,
A womans face oft Maiesties bewitches.
When news is brought him that his foes are come,
He catches straite this maiden in his armes,
Calling for musicke that is now his drumme:
Ile keepe thee safe (quoth he) for other harmes,
Tho spoke in thunder they to me are dumbe.
To counsell now they call him with low duty,
But her Idea so his sences charmes,
He drownes all speech in praising of her beauty.
One tels him that the Christians are in field.
You do not marke her beauty, he replies.
Two mightie Cities to their power doth yeeld:
Note but the lustre sparkling from her eyes.
Your subiects hearts, against your life are steeld:
Her tongue is musick, that strikes wonder dumbe.
Your people struck with warre by millions dyes:
If she but frowne then I shall ouercome.
Shall I feare this worlds losse enioying heauen,
Or thinke of danger when an Angel guards me?
Can greater glory to my life be giuen,
Then her maiesticke beauty that rewards me?
Nay is not he of happinesse bereau'd,
That neuer saw her face nor heard her voyce,
And those that win our loue, or most regards me,
Confesse that we are godlike in our choice.
He left his Ianisaries in a trance,
And to her priuate chamber straite enioyes,
His bloud within his azure veines doth dance:
In loue th' effects are seene before the cause:
For nectar'd kisses and a smile by chance,
Are but loue branches, though they grow vp first,
And Cupid thus confines vs in his lawes,
To tast the fountaine ere we quench our thirst.
Night like a Princes pallace full of light,
Illumin'd all the earth with golden starres,
Here Art crost Nature, making day of night:
And Mahomet prepares him for loues warres.
A banquet is ordain'd to feed delight,
Of his Imperiall bountie with expences:
A heauen on earth he presently prepares,
To rauish in one hower all her sences.
Her eyes could glance no way but saw a iewell,
As rich as Cleopatra gaue her loue.
Pictures haue power to warme ice with loues fewell.
The gentle treading of the Turtle-doue,
The Camels lust that in his heate is cruell:
And Iupiter transformed from a man,
When with his breast the siluer streame did moue,
And rauish Leda like a snowy Swan.
The table furnisht, to delight the taste,
With food aboue Ambrosia diuine,
Such as would helpe consumptions that did wast:
The life bloud, or the marrow, Greekish wine,
So high one draught would make Dian vnchast.
Nectar is water to this banquets drinke,
Here Aesculapius did his art resigne,
And pleasure drown'd with standing on the brink.
To please her hearing Eunuches sang as shrill,
As if that nature had dismembred them,
All birds that ecchoes musicke through the bill,
Sang ioy to her in an vndittied antheme:
An artificiall heauen stands open still,
Filling the roofe with a sweet vnknowne noyse,
Downe fals a clowd like a rich diadem,
And showes a hundred naked singing boyes.
The sence of smelling with all rare deuises,
That rich Arabia or the world can yeeld,
The dew of Roses and choise Indian spices,
The purest of the garden and the field.
The earth to part with these rare gifts now nises,
And vowes no more her nature so profuse,
Shall let her sweets be from her breast distild,
To feed their vanitie with her abuse.
Then in a rich imbroidred bed of downe,
Pluck't from the cōstant Turtles fethered breast,
Vpon her head he set imperiall crowne,
And to her goes: Now is his soule at rest.
This night he counts the end of his renowne,
The sence of feeling, she feeles by his power,
And like a subiect yeelds to his request,
Whilest Mahomet a virgin doth deflower.
Now feares this flower deflowr'd his loue will waine,
Wishing the lustfull act had bin vndoon,
The pleasure cannot counteruaile the paine,
For still she thinkes with torment joy is woon,
His loue growes full, she gets it now with gaine:
He like a ring of gold insets his iewell,
But fearing of his force she should disdaine,
Till sighes and kisses did inflame Loues fewell.
Then like the God of Warre, caught in a net,
He twin'd his Venus, danger was not nigh,
And as a Diamond compar'd with Iet,,
So show'd her sparkling eye against his eye.
The sunne-gaz'd Eagle now this done doth get,
And gently gripes her, hurting not his pray,
She sounds with pleasure, second sweets are high
And wishes Phoebus blinde all night, no day.
The red-cheek't morning opens now her gate,
And busie day breathes life into the world,
The heauens great coachman mounted is in state,
And darknesse from the aire to hell is hurld.
Now pleasures king by day light sees his mate,
Whil'st she lay blushing like the damaske rose,
His ietty haire she with her fingers curld,
He hug'd her fast, least he his ioyes should lose.
Her fight begot in him a new desire,
For that is restlesse alwaies in extreames,
Nought but saciety can quench loues fire.
Now throgh the christal casemēt Phoebus beames
Dazled those twinckling starres that did aspire,
To gaze vpon his brightnesse being a louer.
Tasting her petulans in waking dreames,
To hide her from the sunne, he doth her couer.
Then sweet breath'd musicke, like the chime of spheares,
Did rauish pleasure, till this paire did rise:
More wonder then that sound was to men eares
Was her rare beauty to the gazers eyes.
Ioy was so violent, the rockes it teares,
The noise and triumphs beates vpon the aire,
And like ambition pierceth through the skies,
That Ioue loo'kt downe on her that was so rare.
Thus Mahomet both day and night doth spend,
In obseruation of her eyes and pleasure,
Growing so iealous, least he should offend,
His soules perfection, natures vnspent treasure.
If she but speake to him, he low doth bend,
And such a seruitude he doth discouer.
Neglecting of himselfe in that grosse measure,
That Hiren clips her slaue, no Emperour.
Her chamber is her prison (O most willing)
And there like house-doues they each other woo
At first shee'l shun him, after fall a billing,
And with imagination make him doo.
Thy eies quoth Mahomet, saues thousands killing
For all my force vpon thee shall be spent,
Thy warres directions I do best allow,
Thy Armes my Armour, and thy bed my Tent.
Who doth offend this paramour, straight dyes,
As certainly, as if pronounc'd by fate,
Who doth with duty please her, needs must rise,
Her face directeth both his loue and hate.
The grosest flatterer is held most wise.
Now reignes swolne gluttony, red lust, and pride:
For when the heart's corrupted in a state,
Needs must the other parts be putrifide.
The cōmons like wolues, bark against the moone
And sweare they wil depose him from his throne:
The Nobles whisper, and intend, that soone.
Some one shal let their griefe to him be knowne.
To scape that office now is each mans boone,
Who speakes against her whets a fatall knife,
For he replyes, I loose but what's mine owne,
As sure as we haue life, you loose that life.
They stand amaz'd, by hearing their own feares
Each viewing other with a face extracted:
Some praying, cursing, other shedding teares,
To see a Louer by a Souldier acted.
Patience doth foole vs that so long forbeares,
To tell our Emperour hee's turn'd a monster,
And to such ease and vices so contracted.
The world, his birth, and titles doth mis-conster.
Then Musstapha, beloued of the Turke,
Stood vp, and said, I hazard will my head,
Know Countrymen, Ile vndertake this worke,
And if I fall, lament me being dead.
No flattery within this breast shall lurke:
For that to Princes eares is now grown common
Whilest Mahomet to haue his pleasure fed,
Doth loose the worlds sway for a fickle woman.
Vnto her priuate chamber! straight he goes,
And findes his soueraigne sleeping on her lap,
On suddaine wakes him: Sir, here are your foes,
The sound amaz'd him like a thunder-clap:
Although you sleep, awak't are all our woes.
The franticke Emperour vpon him stares,
Relate in briefe the worst of our mishap,
Man cannot wrong vs, when a God not dares.
This danger Mehomet, attends thy reigne,
The Gods are angry with thy lustfull ease,
Thy priuate pleasure is the Empires paine,
To please your selfe you all the world displease:
The Sophy, German, and the King of Spaine,
Begirt they safety with the ribbes of death.
Then worthy Prince, your wonted valour cease,
And take my counsel, though it cost my breath.
You are but the shadow of an Emperour,
Not really effecting what you are,
A slothfull Epicure, a puling louer,
That now en'e trembles at the name of warre,
Obliuion all thy former acts do couer,
Most willing to remoue you I will dye,
The sunne of honour now is scarce a starre,
Vertue at first was sire to Maiesty.
The Emperour vpon his subiect stares,
As if a Gorgons head he there had seene,
How comes it vassall, that thy proud tōgue dares,
Speake to remoue mee frō this heauenly queene?
The gods wold liue on earth, to haue their shares
In my Hirena: Sirra, you want nurture:
Thy life I will not touch now in my spleene,
But in cold bloud it shall depart with torture.
I feare not death, repli'd bold Mustapha,
At your command I'le clime a steepy rocke,
Then headlong tumble downe into the sea,
Or willingly submit me to the blocke,
Disrobe my nature, and my body flea:
Yet in that tyranny I'le speake my minde,
And boldly like a Souldier stand deaths shocke,
Concluding, lust can strike the Eagle blinde.
His haughty words amaz'd this king of loue,
Thou wert not wont to speake thus without duty.
Can her embraces so my soule remoue?
And must he be a coward dotes on beauty?
Such rarity of pleasure I do proue,
In her enioying, that my soule is fed,
With that variety, to speake her truly,
Each night she giues me a new maiden-head.
Yet shall my subiects know my power in this,
That I can rule mine owne affection:
I pardon freely what thou speak'st amisse,
Knowing it sprung from loue, and thy subiection:
Your eies shall see me rob the earth of blisse,
A sight too sad, all heauen strike men with terror,
And in that act cast such reflexion.
That kings shall see thēselues in me their mirror.
Go, tell my Bashaes, and the noble bloud,
I do inuite them to a royall dinner,
And there I'le shew them loue can be withstood:
Yet he that wrongs my Greeke is such a sinner,
He cannot cleanse himselfe, washt in loues flood.
Fortune this fate vpon my loue hath hurld,
The Monarkes of the earth in hope to win her,
Against her beauty would stake all the world.
Leaue vs: and be thou comforted my faire,
I will aduance thee bou'e the stile of woman:
Let not my words bring thee vnto dispaire,
Thou shalt imbrace the Gods, for her's no man
Worthy to taste thy sweetes, they are so rare.
Drawn by the Phoenix thou through heauen shalt ride
And Saturn woūded by loues litle bowman
Shall get his sonne to haue thee stellifide.
Go decke thy beauty with heauens ornament,
Shine Cinthia like with iewels in the night,
As she with starres stucke in heauens firmament;
But thine, the greater will deface her light,
Making her yeeld to thee her gouernment.
On Saturnes top thy face shall gaine opinion,
Beyond cold Phoebe shining out so bright,
Thou shalt be courted by her loue Endimion.
Let ioy possesse thy heart, and be thou proud,
In sight of all the Turkish Emperours Peares,
Let not thy sunne of beauty in a cloud,
Be hid from those, whose eies with deawy teares,
For want of thy pure heate in shades do shroud,
Their drooping forheads, but thy beames exhales
All misty vapours, and the welkin cleares,
Like putrifying lightning, or Ioues balles.
Then hand in hand they passe out of the roome,
Her beauty like a blazing starre admired,
Well may I tearme it so, it shew'd the doome,
Of her liues date that instant was expired.
Now to the presence chamber they are come,
Where all in reuerence kisse the humble earth,
Here nature tooke her own, and death hath hir'd,
To giue that backe againe, which she gaue birth.
Now stands in the midst, and thus begins,
(Taking the faire Hirena by the hand:)
Which of you here, that such a creature wins,
Would part with her, for honor, loue, or land?
The gods were enuious whē they made those sins
Which are th crowns of this fraile worlds cōtent,
Nor can it with their humane reason stand,
To thinke our ioyes begets our punishment.
View but her hand, her lip, her brow, her eyes,
The smalnesse of her waste, and comely stature,
And let your iudgement bou'e your hatred rise,
Thē you must needs cōfesse, she excels in feature.
That you are onely fooles, I truly wise,
Doe not her presence admiration strike,
And broken is her frame by angry nature,
For feare she wrongs herselfe, and make the like,
What man that hauing toild in hidden Art,
Spent all his youth, and substance to the bone,
All bookes and knowledge in the deepest part,
To finde that Phoenix, that gold-getting stone,
And hauing it, to comfort his weake heart,
Shall he his seruants, wife, or friends to please,
With his owne eies go see that iewell throwne,
Into the bottomelesse and gaping seas.
Or which of you can haue the fortitude,
to lop a limbe off, or pull out an eye,
Or being in a heauenly seruitude,
To free your selues would with the damned lye?
Offorce with me you now must all conclude,
That mortall men are subiect to loues rod,
But heere you shall perceiue that onely I,
Am natures conquerour, and a perfect God.
Then with a smiling looke, he came vnto her,
And kist her, bad her pray, and then he smil'd,
I must not in my constancy now erre,
Since by mine owne tongue I a God am sti'ld.
He drawes a fatall Turkish Simiter,
With it he parts her body from her head.
And though his tyranny did proue so vile,
She seem'd to mocke him smiling being dead.
Vntill he tooke it in his bloudy power,
And then a crimson floud gusht out a pace,
The fauor chang'd frō smiling, and look't sower.
And senceles teares ran trickling downe her face,
As who should say, I thought within this hower,
For me thou wouldst haue oppos'd heauen with strife,
That earthly being is like falling glasse,
To thee I lost virginity and life.
Long stood he mute, and gaz'd vpon her forme,
Till Mustapha came in to play his part,
His eies shot lightning like a horrid storme,
Thē with his fauchion runs him through the hart,
O could this diuell my soule so tranforme,
That I must eate that snake in him did lurke,
But this is hels instruction, the blacke Art.
To giue our sins the means by which they work.
O my Hirena, Mahomet then cries,
Looke through the orbes, & see an Emperour sad
Detaine her not you rulers in the skies,
But send her once more, to make Monarkes glad.
My soule to thine like Tartars shaft now flies,
They held his arme, or else he had done the deed
This mighty Mahomet with loue growne mad,
Can nothing ease you, but your heart must bleed.
Where is that God-head due vnto your birth,
Descended from the Prophet Mahomet,
Recall your spirits to their former mirth,
And keep your colour constant like the Iet,
Now shew your fortitude, be God on earth,
Marshall your men, giue eare vnto your Drum,
And let your valour with the sunne being set,
With the resplendancy burne Christendome.
Awake dull mate, and leaue this trance,
Be perfect man, as thou hast here thy being,
Not subiect vnto passion or chance;
But like thy selfe, with Kingly thoughts agree,
Our siluer moone to heauen we will aduance,
And Christendome shall mourne for Hirens fall,
That heathen Princes our braue acts seeing,
Shall yeeld the world to vs, we king of all.
And for my loues vnkindly Tragedy,
A thousand Citties for her death shall mourne,
And as a relicke to posterity,
Our priests shall keep her ashes in their vrne,
And fame to future times with memory,
Shall sound ber glory, and my loues effects,
For, till this vniuersall Masse doth burne,
Her beauty rests the wonder of her sex.
Now order my affaires for bloudy warre,
For heere I vow this loue shall be my last,
No more shall downy pleasure, like a barre,
Stop my designes that now at honour gast,
Shoote prophet on my forhead a blessed starre,
A Tygers fiercenesse, and my heart shall moue,
Because with Hiren all affections past,
I'le pitty none, for pitty be gets loue.