The. xv. bookes of P. Ouidius Naso, entytuled Metamorphosis, translated oute of Latin into English meeter, by Arthur Golding Gentleman, a worke very pleasaunt and delectable. 1567.

¶THE THIRD BOOKE of Ouids Metamorphosis. (Book 3)

THe God now hauing laide aside his borrowed shape of Bull, Had in his likenesse shewde himself: And with his pretie trull Tane landing in the Ile of Crete. When in that while hir Sire Not knowing where she was become, sent after to enquire Hir brother Cadmus, charging him his sister home to bring. Or neuer for to come againe: wherein he did a thing, For which he might both iustly kinde and cruell called bée. When Cadmus ouer all the world had sought, (for who is hée. That can detect the thefts of Ioue?) and no where could hir sée. Then as an outlaw (to auoyde his fathers wrongfull yre) He went to Phebus Oracle most humbly to desire His heauenly counsell, where he would assigne him place to dwell. An Hecfar all alone in field (quoth Phebus) marke hir well, which neuer bare the pinching yoke, nor drew the plough as yit, Shall méete thée. follow after hir, and where thou séest hir sit, There builde a towne, and let thereof Beotia be the name. Downe from Parnasus stately top scarce fully Cadmus came, When royling softly in the vale before the herde alone He saw an Hecfar on whose necke of seruage print was none. He followde after leysurly as hir that was his guide, And thanked Phebus in his heart that did so well prouide. Now had he past Cephifus forde, and eke the pleasant groundes, About the Citie Panope conteinde within those boundes. The Hecfar staide, and lifting vp hir forehead to the skie Full séemely for to looke vpon with hornes like braunches hie Did with hir lowing fill the Ayre: and casting backe hir eie Upon the rest that came aloofe, as softly as she could Knéelde downe and laide hir hairie side against the grassie mould. Then Cadmus gaue Apollo thankes, and falling flat bylow Did kisse the ground and haile the fields which yet he did not know. He was about to sacrifice to Ioue the Heauenly King, And bad his seruants goe and fetch him water of the spring. An olde forgrowne vnfelled wood stoode neare at hand thereby, And in the middes a queachie plot with Sedge and Oysiers hie.

Where courbde about with peble stone in likenesse of a bow There was a spring with siluer streames that forth thereof did ••low. Here lurked in his lowring den God Mars his griesly Snake With golden scales and firie eyes beswolne with poyson blake. Thrée spirting tongues, thrée rowes of téeth within his head did sticke. No sooner had the Tirian folke set foote within this thicke And queachie plot, and deped downe their bucket in the well, But that to buscle in his den began this Serpent fell. And péering with a marble head right horribly to hisse. The Tirians let their pitchers slip for sodaine feare of this. And waxing pale as any clay, like folke amazde and flaight, Stoode trembling like an Aspen leafe. The specled serpent straight Commes trailing out in wauing linkes, and knottie rolles of scales, And bending into bunchie boughts his bodie forth he hales. And lifting vp aboue the wast himselfe vnto the Skie, He ouerlooketh all the wood, as huge and big welnie As is the Snake that in the Heauen about the Nordren Pole Deuides the Beares. He makes no stay but deales his dreadfull dole Among the Tirians. Whether they did take them to their tooles, Or to their héeles, or that their feare did make them stand like fooles, And helpe themselues by none of both, he snapt vp some aliue, And swept in others with his taile, and some he did depriue Of life with rankenesse of his breath, and other some againe He stings and poysons vnto death till all at last were staine. Now when the Sunne was at his heigth and shadowes waxed short, And Cadmus saw his companie make tarience in that sort, He marueld what should be their let, and went to séeke them out. His harnesse was a Lions skin that wrapped him about. His weapons were a long strong speare with head of yron tride, And eke a light and piercing Dart. And therevnto beside Worth all the weapons in the world a stout and valiant hart. When Cadmus came within the wood and saw about that part His men lie slaine vpon the ground, and eke their cruell fo Of bodie huge stand ouer them, and licking with his blo And blasting tongue their sorie woundes, well trustie friendes (quoth he) I eyther of your piteous deathes will streight reuenger be, Or else will die my selfe therefore. With that he raughting fast

A mightie Milstone, at the Snake with all his might it cast. The stone with such exceding force and violence forth was driuen, As of a fort the bulwarkes strong and walles it would haue riuen. And yet it did the Snake no harme: his scales as hard and tough As if they had bene plates of mayle did fence him well inough, So that the stone rebounded backe against his freckled slough. But yet his hardnesse saude him not against the piercing dart. For hitting right betwéene the scales that yéelded in that part Whereas the ioynts doe knit the backe, it thirled through the skin, And pierced to his filthy mawe and gréedy guts within. He fierce with wrath wrings backe his head, and looking on the stripe The Iaueling steale that sticked out, betwene his téeth doth gripe. The which with wresting to and fro at length he forth did winde, Saue that he left the head thereof among his bones behinde. When of his courage through the wound more kindled was the ire, His throteboll swelde with puffed veines, his eyes gan sparkle fire. There stoode about his smeared chaps a lothly foming froth. His skaled brest ploughes vp the ground, the stinking breath that goth Out from his blacke and hellish mouth infectes the herbes full fowle. Sometime he windes himselfe in knots as round as any Bowle. Sometime he stretcheth out in length as straight as any beame. Anon againe with violent brunt he rusheth like a streame Encreast by rage of latefalne raine, and with his mightie sway Beares downe the wood before his breast that standeth in his way. Agenors sonne retiring backe doth with his Lions spoyle Defend him from his fierce assaults, and makes him to recoyle Aye holding at the weapons point. The Serpent waxing wood Doth crashe the stéele betwene his téeth, and bites it till the blood Dropt mixt with poyson from his mouth, did die the gréene grasse blacke But yet the wound was verie light bicause he writhed backe And puld his head still from the stroke: and made the stripe to die By giuing way, vntill that Cadmus following irefully The stroke, with all his powre and might did through y^• throte him riue, And naylde him to an Oke behind the which he eke did cliue. The Serpents waight did make the trée to bend. It grieude the trée His bodie of the Serpents taile thus scourged for to bée.

While Cadmus wondred at the hugenesse of the vanquisht foe Upon the sodaine came a voyce: from whence he could not know. But sure he was he heard the voyce. Which said, Agenors sonne What gazest thus vpon this Snake? the time will one day come That thou thy selfe shalt be a Snake. He pale and wan for feare, Had lost his speach: and ruffled vp stiffe staring stood his heare. Behold (mans helper at his néede) Dame Pallas gliding through The vacant Ayre was straight at hand, and bade him take a plough And cast the Serpents téeth in ground, as of the which should spring Another people out of hand. He did in euery thing As Pallas bade, he tooke a plough, and earde a forrow low And sowde the Serpents téeth whereof the foresaid folke should grow. Anon (a wondrous thing to tell) the clods began to moue, And from the forrow first of all the pikes appearde aboue, Next rose vp helmes with fethered crests, and then the Poldrens bright, Successiuely the Curets whole, and all the armor right. Thus grew vp men like corne in field in rankes of battle ray With shields and weapons in their hands to feight the field that day. Euen so when stages are attirde against some solemne game, With clothes of Arras gorgeously, in drawing vp the same The faces of the ymages doe first of all them showe, And then by peecemeale all the rest in order séemes to grow, Untill at last they stand out full vpon their féete bylow. Afrighted at this new found foes gan Cadmus for to take Him to his weapons by and by resistance for to make. Stay, stay thy selfe (cride one of them that late before were bred Out of the ground) and meddle not with ciuill warres. This sed, One of the brothers of that brood with launcing sworde he slue. Another sent a dart at him, the which him ouerthrue. The third did straight as much for him and made him yéelde the breath, (The which he had receyude but now) by stroke of forced death. Likewise outraged all the rest vntill that one by one By mutuall stroke of ciuill warre dispatched euerychone, This broode of brothers all behewen and weltred in their blood, Lay sprawling on their mothers womb the ground where erst they stood, Saue only fiue that did remaine. Of whom Echion led By Pallas counsell, threw away the helmet from his head,

And with his brothers gan to treat attonement for to make. The which at length (by Pallas helpe) so good successe did take, That faithfull friendship was confirmd and hand in hand was plight. These afterward did well assist the noble Tyrian knight, In building of the famous towne that Phebus had behight. Now Thebes stoode in good estate, now Cadmus might thou say That when thy father banisht thée it was a luckie day. To ioyne aliance both with Mars and Venus was thy chaunce, Whose daughter thou hadst tane to wife, who did thée much aduaunce, Not only through hir high renowne, but through a noble race Of sonnes and daughters that she bare: whose children in like case It was thy fortune for to sée all men and women growne. But ay the ende of euery thing must marked be and knowne. For none the name of blessednesse deserueth for to haue Onlesse the tenor of his life last blessed to his graue. Among so many prosprous happes that flowde with good successe, Thine eldest Nephew was a cause of care and sore distresse. Whose head was armde with palmed hornes, whose own hoūds in y^• wood Did pull their master to the ground and fill them with his bloud. But if you sift the matter well, ye shall not finde desart But cruell fortune to haue bene the cause of this his smart. For who could doe with ouersight? great slaughter had bene made Of sundrie sortes of sauage beastes one morning: and the shade Of things was waxed verie short. It was the time of day That mid betwéene the East and West the Sunne doth séeme to stay. When as the Thebane stripling thus bespake his companie, Still raunging in the waylesse woods some further game to spie. Our weapons and our toyles are moist and staind with bloud of Deare: This day hath done inough as by our quarrie may appeare. Assoone as with hir scarlet whéeles next morning bringeth light, We will about our worke againe. But now Hiperion bright Is in the middes of Heauen, and seares the fieldes with firie rayes. Take vp your toyles, and cease your worke, and let vs go our wayes. They did euen so, and ceast their worke. There was a valley thicke With Pinaple and Cipresse trées that armed be with pricke. Gargaphie hight this shadie plot, it was a sacred place To chast Diana and the Nymphes that wayted on hir grace.

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Within the furthest end thereof there was a pleasant Bowre So vaulted with the leauie trées the Sunne had there no powre: Not made by hand nor mans deuise: and yet no man aliue, A trimmer piece of worke than that could for his life contriue. With flint and Pommy was it wallde by nature halfe about, And on the right side of the same full freshly flowed out A liuely spring with Christall streame: whereof the vpper brim Was gréene with grasse and matted herbes that smelled verie trim. When Phebe felt hir selfe waxe faint, of following of hir game, It was hir custome for to come and bath hir in the same. That day she hauing timely left hir hunting in the chace, Was entred with hir troupe of Nymphes within this pleasant place. She tooke hir quiuer and hir bow the which she had vnbent, And eke hir Iauelin to a Nymph that serued that intent. Another Nymph to take hir clothes among hir traine she chose, Two losde hir buskins from hir legges and pulled of hir hose. The Thebane Ladie Crocale more cunning than the rest Did trusse hir tresses handsomly which hung behind vndrest. And yet hir owne hung wauing still. Then Niphe nete and cléene, With Hiale glistring like the grash in beautie fresh and shéene, And Rhanis clearer of hir skin than are the rainie drops, And little bibling Phyale, and Pseke that pretie Mops, Powrde water into vessels large to washe their Ladie with. Now while she kéepes this wont, behold, by wandring in the frith He wist not whither (hauing staid his pastime till the morrow) Comes Cadmus Nephew to this thicke: and entring in with sorrow (Such was his cursed cruell fate) saw Phebe where she washt. The Damsels at the sight of man quite out of countnance dasht, (Bicause they euerichone were bare and naked to the quicke) Did beate their handes against their breasts, and cast out such a shricke, That all the wood did ring thereof: and clinging to their dame Did all they could to hide both hir and eke themselues fro shame. But Phebe was of personage so comly and so tall, That by the middle of hir necke she ouerpéerd them all. Such colour as appeares in Heauen by Phebus broken rayes Directly shining on the Cloudes, or such as is alwayes The colour of the Morning Cloudes before the Sunne doth show,

Such sanguine colour in the face of Phoebe gan to glowe There standing naked in his sight. Who though she had hir gard Of Nymphes about hir: yet she turnde hir bodie from him ward. And casting back an angrie looke, like as she would haue sent An arrow at him had she had hir bow there readie bent. So raught she water in hir hande and for to wreake the spight Besprinckled all the heade and face of this vnluckie Knight, And thus forespake the heauie lot that shoulde vpon him light. Now make thy vaunt among thy Mates, thou sawfte Diana bare. Tell if thou can: I giue thée leaue: tell heardly: doe not spare. This done she makes no further threates, but by and by doth spread A payre of liuely olde Harts hornes vpon his sprinckled head. She sharpes his eares, she makes his necke both slender, long and lanke▪ She turnes his fingers into féete, his armes to spindle shanke. She wrappes him in a hairie hyde beset with speckled spottes, And planteth in him fearefulnesse. And so away he trottes. Full greatly wondring to him selfe what made him in that cace To be so wight and swift of foote. But when he saw his face And horned temples in the brooke, he would haue cryde alas, But as for then no kinde of speach out of his lippes could passe. He sight and brayde: for that was then the speach that did remaine, And downe the eyes that were not his, his bitter teares did raine. No part remayned (saue his minde) of that he earst had béene. What should he doe? turne home againe to Cadmus and the Quéene? Or hyde himselfe among the Woods? Of this he was afrayd, And of the tother ill ashamde. While doubting thus he stayd. His houndes espyde him where he was, and Blacksoote first of all And Stalker speciall good of sent began aloud to call. This latter was a hounde of Crete, the other was of Spart. Then all the kenell fell in round, and euerie for his part, Dyd follow freshly in the chase more swifter than the winde, Spy, Eateal, Scalecliffe, thrée good houndes comne all of Arcas kinde. Strong Kilbucke, currish Sauage, Spring, and Hunter fresh of smell, And Lightfoote who to lead a chase did beare away the bell. Fierce Woodman hurte not long ago in hunting of a Bore, And Shepeheird woont to follow shéepe and neate to fielde afore. And Laund a fell and eger bitch that had a Wolfe to Syre:

Another brach callde Gréedigut with two hir Puppies by her. And Ladon gant as any Gréewnd a hownd in Sycion bred, Blab, Fléetewood, Patch whose flecked skin w^t sundrie spots was spred: Wight, Bowman, Royster, beautie faire and white as winters snow, And Tawnie full of duskie haires that ouer all did grow, With lustie Ruffler passing all the resdue there in strength, And Tempest best of footemanshipe in holding out at length. And Cole and Swift, and little Woolfe, as wight as any other. Accompanide with a Ciprian hound that was his natiue brother, And Snatch amid whose forehead stoode a starre as white as snowe, The resdue being all as blacke and slicke as any Crowe. And shaggie Rugge with other twaine that had a Syre of Crete, And Dam of Sparta: Tone of them callde Iollyboy, a great And large flewd hound: the tother Chorle who euer gnoorring went, And Ringwood with a shyrle loude mouth the which he fréely spent. With diuers mo whose names to tell it were but losse of tyme. This fellowes ouer hill and dale in hope of pray doe clyme, Through thicke and thin and craggie cliffes where was no way to go, He flyes through groundes where oftentymes he chased had ere tho. Euen from his owne folke is he faine (alas) to flée away. He strayned oftentymes to speake, and was about to say. I am Acteon: know your Lorde and Mayster sirs I pray. But vse of wordes and speach did want to vtter forth his minde. Their crie did ring through all the Wood redoubled with the winde, First Slo did pinch him by the haunch, and next came Kildéere in, And Hylbred fastned on his shoulder, bote him through the skinne. These came forth later than the rest, but coasting thwart a hill, They did gainecope him as he came, and helde their Master still Untill that all the rest came in, and fastned on him to. No part of him was frée from wound. He could none other do But sigh, and in the shape of Hart with voyce as Hartes are woont, (For voyce of man was none now left to helpe him at the brunt) By braying shew his secret grief among the Mountaynes hie, And knéeling sadly on his knées with dréerie teares in eye, As one by humbling of himselfe that mercy séemde to craue, With piteous looke in stead of handes his head about to waue. Not knowing that it was their Lord, the huntsmen chéere their hounds

With wonted noyse and for Acteon looke about the grounds. They hallow who could lowdest crie still calling him by name, As though he were not there, and much his absence they do blame In that he came not to the fall, but slackt to sée the game. As often as they named him he sadly shooke his head, And faine he would haue béene away thence in some other stead. But there he was. And well he could haue found in heart to sée His dogges fell déedes, so that to féele in place he had not bée. They hem him in on euerie side, and in the shape of Stagge, With gréedie téeth and griping pawes their Lord in péeces dragge. So fierce was cruell Phoebes wrath, it could not be alayde, Till of his fault by bitter death the raunsome he had payde. Much muttring was vpō this fact. Some thought there was extēded A great deale more extremitie than neded. Some commended Dianas doing: saying that it was but worthely For safegarde of hir womanhod. Eche partie did applie Good reasons to defende their case. Alone the wife of Ioue, Of lyking or misliking it not all so greatly stroue, As secretly reioyst in heart that such a plague was light On Cadmus linage: turning all the malice and the spight Conceyued earst against the wench that Ioue had set fro Tyre, Upon the kinred of the wench, and for to fierce hir ire, Another thing cleane ouerthwart there commeth in the nicke: The Ladie Semell great with childe by Ioue as then was quicke. Hereat she gan to freat and fume, and for to ease hir heart, Which else would burst, she fell in hande with scolding out hir part. And what a goodyeare haue I woon by scolding erst? (she sed) It is that arrant queane hir selfe, against whose wicked hed I must assay to giue assault: and if (as men me call) I be that Iuno who in heauen beare greatest swing of all, If in my hande I worthie bée to holde the royall Mace, And if I be the Quéene of heauen and soueraigne of this place, Or wife and sister vnto Ioue, (his sister well I know: But as for wife that name is vayne, I serue but for a show, To couer other priuie skapes) I will confound that Whore. Now (with a mischiefe) is she bagd and beareth out before, Hir open shame to all the world? and shortly hopes to bée

The mother of a sonne by Ioue, the which hath hapt to mée. Not passing once in all my time, so sore she doth presume Upon hir beautie. But I trowe hir hope shall soone consume. For neuer let me counted be for Saturns daughter more, If by hir owne deare darling Ioue on whome she trustes so sore, I sende hir not to Styxes streame. This ended vp she rose And couered in golden cloud to Semelles house she goes. And ere she sent away the cloud, she takes an olde wyues shape With hoarie haire and riueled skinne, with slow and crooked gate. As though she had the Palsey had hir féeble limmes did shake, And eke she foltred in the mouth as often as she spake. She séemde olde Beldame Beroe of Epidaure to bée, This Ladie Semelles Nourse as right as though it had béene shée. So when that after mickle talke of purpose ministred Ioues name was vpned: by and by she gaue a sigh and sed, I wish with all my heart that Ioue bée cause to thée of this. But daughter deare I dreade the worst, I feare it be amisse. For manie Uarlets vnder name of Gods to serue their lust, Haue into vndefiled beddes themselues full often thrust. And though it bene the mightie Ioue yet doth not that suffize, Onlesse he also make the same apparant to our eyes. And if it be euen verie hée, I say it doth behoue, He proue it by some open signe and token of his loue. And therefore pray him for to graunt that looke in what degrée, What order, fashion, sort and state he vse to companie With mightie Iuno, in the same in euerie poynt and cace, To all intents and purposes he thée likewise embrace, And that he also bring with him his bright thréeforked Mace: With such instructions Iuno had enformed Cadmus Néece: And she poore sielie simple soule immediately on this Requested Ioue to graunt a boone the which she did not name. Aske what thou wilt swéete heart (quoth he) thou shalt not misse the same, And for to make thée sure hereof, the grisely Stygian Lake, Which is the feare and God of Gods beare witnesse for thy sake. She ioying in hir owne mischaunce, not hauing any powre To rule hir selfe, but making spéede to hast hir fatall howre, In which she through hir Louers helpe should worke hir owne decay,

Sayd: Such as Iuno findeth you when you and she doe play, The games of Venus, such I pray thée shew thy selfe to mée In euerie case. The God would faine haue stopt hir mouth. But shée Had made such hast that out it was. Which made him sigh full sore, For neyther she could then vnwish the thing she wisht before, Nor he reuoke his solemne oth. Wherefore with sorie heart And heau••e countnance by and by to Heauen he doth depart. And makes to follow after him with looke full grim and ••toure The flakie clouds all gris••y blacke, as when they threat a shoure. To which he added mixt with winde a fierce and flashing flame, With drie and dreadfull thunderclaps and lightning to the same Of deadly vnauoyded dynt. And yet as much as may He goes about his vehement force and fiercenesse to allay. He doth not arme him with the fire with which he did remoue The Giant with the hundreth handes Typhoëus from aboue: It was too cruell and too sore to vse against his Loue. The Cyclops made an other kinde of lightning farre more light, Wherein they put much lesse of fire, lesse fiercenesse, lesser might. It hight in Heauen the seconde Mace. Ioue armes himselfe with this And enters into Cadmus house where Semelles chamber is. She being mortall was too weake and féeble to withstande Such troublous tumultes of the Heauens: and therefore out of hande Was burned in hir Louers armes. But yet he tooke away His infant from the mothers wombe vnperfect as it lay, And (if a man may credit it) did in his thigh it sowe, Where byding out the mothers tyme it did to ripenesse growe. And when the time of birth was come his Aunt the Ladie Ine Did nourse him for a while by stealth and kept him trym and fine. The Nymphes of Nysa afterwarde did in their bowres him hide, And brought him vp with Milke till tyme he might abrode be spyde. Now while these things were done on earth, and that by fatal doome The twice borne Bacchus had a tyme to mannes estate to come, They say that Ioue disposde to myrth as he and Iuno sate A drinking Nectar after meate in sport and pleasant rate, Did fall a ieasting with his wife, and saide: a greater pleasure In Venus games ye women haue than men beyonde all measure.

She answerde no. To trie the truth, they both of them agrée The wise Tyresias in this case indifferent Iudge to bée, Who both the man and womans ioyes by tryall vnderstood. For finding once two mightie Snakes engendring in a Wood, He strake them ouerthwart the backs, by meanes whereof beholde (As straunge a thing to be of truth as euer yet was tolde) He being made a woman straight, seuen winter liued so. The eight he finding them againe did say vnto them tho: And if to strike ye haue such powre as for to turne their shape That are the giuers of the stripe, before you hence escape, One stripe now will I lende you more. He strake them as beforne And straight returnd his former shape in which he first was borne. Tyresias therefore being tane to iudge this iesting strife, Gaue sentence on the side of Ioue. The which the Quéene his wife Did take a great deale more to heart than néeded, and in spight To wreake hir téene vpon hir Iudge, bereft him of his sight. But Ioue (for to the Gods it is vnléefull to vndoe The things which other of the Gods by any meanes haue doe) Did giue him sight in things to come for losse of sight of eye, And so his grieuous punishment with honour did supplie. By meanes whereof within a while in Citie, fielde, and towne Through all the coast of Aöny was bruted his renowne. And folke to haue their fortunes read that dayly did resorte Were aunswerde so as none of them could giue him misreporte. The first that of his soothfast wordes had proufe in all the Realme Was freckled Lyriop, whom sometime surprised in his streame, The floud Cephisus did enforce. This Lady bare a sonne Whose beautie at his verie birth might iustly loue haue wonne. Narcissus did she call his name. Of whome the Prophet sage Demaunded if the childe should liue to many yeares of age. Made aunswere, yea full long, so that him selfe he doe not know. The Soothsayers wordes séemde long but vaine, vntill the end did show His saying to be true in déede by straungenesse of the rage, And straungenesse of the kinde of death that did abridge his age. For when yeares thrée times fiue and one he fully lyued had,

So that he séemde to stande béetwene the state of man and Lad, The hearts of dyuers trim yong men his beautie gan to moue And many a Ladie fresh and faire was taken in his loue. But in that grace of Natures gift such passing pride did raigne, That to be toucht of man or Mayde he wholy did disdaine. A babling Nymph that Echo hight: who hearing others talke, By no meanes can restraine hir tongue but that it néedes must walke, Nor of hir selfe hath powre to ginne to speake to any wight, Espyde him dryuing into toyles the fearefull stagges of flight. This Echo was a body then and not an onely voyce. Yet of hir speach she had that time no more than now the choyce. That is to say of many wordes the latter to repeate. The cause thereof was Iunos wrath. For when that with the feate She might haue often taken Ioue in daliance with his Dames, And that by stealth and vnbewares in middes of all his games. This elfe would with hir tatling talke deteine hir by the way, Untill that Ioue had wrought his will and they were fled away. The which when Iuno did perceyue, she said with wrathfull mood, This tongue that hath deluded me shall doe thée little good, For of thy speach but simple vse hereafter shalt thou haue. The déede it selfe did straight confirme the threatnings that she gaue. Yet Echo of the former talke doth double oft the ende And backe againe with iust report the wordes earst spoken sende. Now when she sawe Narcists stray about the Forrest wyde, She wared warme and step for step fast after him she hyde. The more she followed after him and néerer that she came, The whoter euer did she waxe as néerer to hir flame. Lyke as the liuely Brimstone doth which dipt about a match, And put but softly to the fire, the flame doth lightly catch. O Lord how often woulde she faine (if nature would haue let) Entreated him with gentle wordes some fauour for to get? But nature would not suffer hir nor giue hir leaue to ginne. Yet (so farre forth as she by graunt at natures hande could winne) Ay readie with attentiue eare she harkens for some sounde, Whereto she might replie hir wordes, from which she is not bounde.

By chaunce the stripling being strayde from all his companie, Sayde: is there any body nie? straight Echo answerde: I. Amazde he castes his eye aside, and looketh round about, And come (that all the Forrest roong) aloud he calleth out. And come (sayth she:) he looketh backe, and séeing no man followe, Why fliste, he cryeth once againe: and she the same doth hallowe, He still persistes and wondring much what kinde of thing it was From which that answering voyce by turne so duely séemde to passe, Said: let vs ioyne. She (by hir will desirous to haue said, In fayth with none more willingly at any time or stead) Said: let vs ioyne. And standing somewhat in hir owne conceit, Upon these wordes she left the Wood, and forth she yéedeth streit, To coll the louely necke for which she longed had so much, He runnes his way and will not be imbraced of no such. And sayth: I first will die ere thou shalt take of me thy pleasure. She aunswerde nothing else thereto, but take of me thy pleasure. Now when she saw hir selfe thus mockt, she gate hir to the Woods, And hid hir head for verie shame among the leaues and buddes. And euer sence she lyues alone in dennes and hollow Caues. Yet stacke hir loue still to hir heart, through which she dayly raues The more for sorrowe of repulse. Through restlesse carke and care Hir bodie pynes to skinne and bone, and waxeth wonderous bare. The bloud doth vanish into ayre from out of all hir veynes, And nought is left but voyce and bones: the voyce yet still remaynes: Hir bones they say were turnde to stones. From thence she lurking still In Woods, will neuer shewe hir head in field nor yet on hill. Yet is she heard of euery man: it is hir onely sound, And nothing else that doth remayne aliue aboue the ground. Thus had he mockt this wretched Nymph and many mo beside, That in the waters, Woods and groues, or Mountaynes did abyde Thus had he mocked many men. Of which one miscontent To sée himselfe deluded so, his handes to Heauen vp bent, And sayd: I pray to God he may once féele fierce Cupids fire As I doe now, and yet not ioy the things he doth desire. The Goddesse Ramnuse (who doth wreake on wicked people take) Assented to his iust request for ruth and pities sake.

There was a spring withouten mudde as siluer cleare and still, Which neyther shéepeheirds, nor the Goates that fed vpon the hill, Nor other cattell troubled had, nor sauage beast had styrd, Nor braunch nor sticke, nor leafe of trée, nor any foule nor byrd. The moysture fed and kept aye fresh the grasse that grew about, And with their leaues the trées did kéepe the heate of Phoebus out. The stripling wearie with the heate and hunting in the chace, And much delighted with the spring and coolenesse of the place, Did lay him downe vpon the brim: and as he stooped lowe To staunche his thurst, another thurst of worse effect did growe. For as he dranke, he chaunst to spie the Image of his face, The which he did immediately with feruent loue embrace. He féedes a hope without cause why. For like a foolishe noddie He thinkes the shadow that he sées, to be a liuely boddie. Astraughted like an ymage made of Marble stone he lyes, There gazing on his shadowe still with fixed staring eyes. Stretcht all along vpon the ground, it doth him good to sée His ardant eyes which like two starres full bright and shyning bée. And eke his fingars, fingars such as Bacchus might beséeme, And haire that one might worthely Apollos haire it déeme. His beardlesse chinne and yuorie necke, and eke the perfect grace Of white and red indifferently bepainted in his face. All these he woondreth to beholde, for which (as I doe gather) Himselfe was to be woondred at, or to be pitied rather. He is enamored of himselfe for want of taking héede. And where he lykes another thing, he lykes himselfe in déede. He is the partie whome he wooes, and su••er that doth wooe, He is the flame that settes on fire, and thing that burneth tooe. O Lord how often did he kisse that false deceitfull thing? How often did he thrust his armes midway into the spring? To haue embraste the necke he saw and could not catch himselfe? He knowes not what it was he sawe. And yet the foolish elfe Doth burne in ardent loue thereof. The verie selfe same thing That doth bewitch and blinde his eyes, encreaseth all his sting. Thou fondling thou, why doest thou raught the fickle image so? The thing thou séekest is not there. And if a side thou go?

The thing thou louest straight is gone. It is none other matter That thou doest sée, than of thy selfe the shadow in the water. The thing is nothing of it selfe: with thée it doth abide, With thee it would departe if thou withdrew thy selfe aside. No care of meate could draw him thence, nor yet desire of rest. But lying flat against the ground, and lea••ing on his brest, With gréed••e eyes he gazeth still vppon the falced face, And through his sight is wrought his bane. Yet for a little space He turnes and settes himselfe vpright, and holding vp his hands With piteous voyce vnto the wood that round about him stands, Cryes out and ses: alas ye Woods, and was there euer any? That looude so cruelly as I? you know: for vnto many A place of harbrough haue you béene, and fort of refuge strong. Can you remember any one in all your tyme so long? That hath so pinde away as I? I sée and am full faine, Howbeit that I like and sée I can not yet attaine: So great a blindnesse in my heart through doting loue doth raigne. And for to spight me more withall, it is no iourney farre, No drenching Sea, no Mountaine hie, no wall, no locke, no barre, It is but euen a little droppe that kéepes vs two a sunder. He would be had. For looke how oft I kisse the water vnder, So oft againe with vpwarde mouth he riseth towarde mée. A man would thinke to touch at least I should yet able bée. It is a trifle in respect that lettes vs of our loue. What wight soeuer that thou art come hither vp aboue. O pierlesse piece, why dost thou mée thy louer thus delude? Or whither fliste thou of thy friende thus earnestly pursude? Iwis I neyther am so fowle nor yet so growne in yeares That in this wise thou shouldst me shoon. To haue me to their Féeres, The Nymphes themselues haue sude ere this. And yet (as should appéere) Thou dost pretende some kinde of hope of friendship by thy chéere. For when I stretch mine armes to thée, thou stretchest thine likewise. And if I smile thou smilest too: And when that from mine eyes The teares doe drop, I well perceyue the water stands in thine. Like gesture also dost thou make to euerie becke of mine. And as by mouing of thy swéete and louely lippes I wéene,

Thou speakest words although mine eares conceiue not what they béene It is my selfe I well perceyue, it is mine Image sure, That in this sort d••luding me, this furie doth procure. I am mamored of my selfe, I doe both set on fire, And am the same that swelteth too, through impotent desire. What shall I doe? be woode or wo? whome shall I wo therefore? The thing I séeke is in my selfe, my plentie makes me poore. O would to God I for a while might from my bodie part. This wish is straunge to heare a Louer wrapped all in smart, To wish away the thing the which he loueth as his heart. My sorrowe takes away my strength. I haue not long to liue, But in the floure of youth must die. To die it doth not grieue. For that by death shall come the ende of all my griefe and paine I would this yongling whome I loue might lenger life obtaine: For in one soule shall now decay we stedfast Louers twaine. This saide in rage he turnes againe vnto the forsaide shade, And rores the water with the teares and sloubring that he made, That through his troubling of the Well his ymage gan to fade. Which when he sawe to vanish so, Oh whither dost thou flie? Abide I pray thée heartely, aloud he gan to crie. Forsake me not so cruelly that loueth thée so déere, But giue me leaue a little while my dazled eyes to chéere With sight of that which for to touch is vtterly denide, Thereby to féede my wretched rage and surie for a tide. As in this wise he made his mone, he stripped off his cote And with his fist outragiously his naked stomacke smote. A ruddie colour where he smote rose on his stomacke shéere, Lyke Apples which doe partly white and striped red appéere. Or as the clusters ere the grapes to ripenesse fully come: An Orient purple here and there beginnes to grow on some. Which things assoone as in the spring he did beholde againe, He could no longer beare it out. But fainting straight for paine, As lith and supple waxe doth melt against the burning flame, Or morning dewe against the Sunne that glareth on the same: Euen so by piecemale being spent and wasted through desire, Did he consume and melt away with Cupids secret fire.

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His liuely hue of white and red, his chéerefulnesse and strength And all the things that lyked him did wanze away at length. So that in fine remayned not the bodie which of late The wretched Echo loued so. Who when she sawe his state, Although in heart she angrie were, and mindefull of his pride, Yet ruing his vnhappie case, as often as he cride Alas, she cride alas likewise with shirle redoubled sound. And when he beate his breast, or strake his féete against the ground, She made like noyse of clapping too. These are the woordes that last Out of his lippes beholding still his woonted ymage past. Alas swéete boy beloude in vaine, farewell. And by and by With sighing sound the selfe same wordes the Echo did reply. With that he layde his wearie head against the grassie place And death did cloze his gazing eyes that woondred at the grace And beautie which did late adorne their Masters heauenly face. And afterward when into Hell receyued was his spright He goes me to the Well of Styx, and there both day and night Standes tooting on his shadow still as fondely as before The water Nymphes his sisters wept and wayled for him sore And on his bodie strowde their haire clipt off and shorne therefore. The Woodnymphes also did lament. And Echo did rebound To euery sorowfull noyse of theirs with like lamenting sound. The fire was made to burne the corse, and waxen Tapers light. A Herce to lay the bodie on with solemne pompe was dight. But as for bodie none remaind: In stead thereof they found A yellow floure with milke white leaues new sprong vpon the ground. This matter all Achaia through did spreade the Prophets fame: That euery where of iust desert renowmed was his name. But Penthey olde Echions sonne (who proudely did disdaine Both God and man) did laughe to scorne the Prophets words as vaine, Upbrading him most spitefully with loosing of his sight, And with the fact for which he lost fruition of this light. The good olde father (for these wordes his pacience much did moue) Said•• O how happie shouldest thou be and blessed from aboue, If thou wert blinde as well as I, so that thou might not sée The sacred rytesof Bacchus band? For sure the time will bée,

And that full shortely (as I gesse) that hither shall resort Another Bacchus Semelles sonne, whome if thou not support With pompe and honour like a God, thy carcasse shall be tattred, And in a thousand places eke about the Woods be scattred. And for to reade thée what they are that shall perfourme the déede, It is thy mother and thine Auntes that thus shall make thée bléede. I know it shall so come to passe, for why thou shalt disdaine, To honour Bacchus as a God: and then thou shalt with paine Féele how that blinded as I am I sawe for thée too much. As olde Tiresias did pronounce these wordes and other such, Echions sonne did trouble him. His wordes proue true in déede, For as the Prophet did forespeake so fell it out with spéede. Anon this newefound Bacchus commes: the woods and fieldes rebound, With noyse of shouts and howling out, and such confused sound. The folke runne flocking out by heapes, men, Mayds and wiues togither The noble men and rascall sorte ran gadding also thither. The Orgies of this vnknowne God full fondely to performe, The which when Penthey did perceyue, he gan to rage and storme. And sayde vnto them. O ye ympes of Mars his snake by kinde What ayleth you? What fiend of hell doth thus enrage your minde? Hath tinking sound of pottes and pannes? hath noyse of crooked horne? Haue fonde illusions such a force? that them whome heretoforne No arming sworde? no bloudie trumpe? no men in battail ray Coulde cause to shrinke? no shéepish shriekes of simple women fray? And dronken woodnesse wrought by wine? & roughts of filthie freakes? And sound of toying timpanes dauntes? & quite their courage breakes? Shall I at you yée auncient men which from the towne of Tyre? To bring your housholde Gods by Sea, in safetie did aspyre? And setled them within this place the which ye nowe doe yéelde In bondage quite without all force and fighting in the fielde? Or woonder at you yonger sorte approching vnto mée More neare in courage and in yeares? whome méete it were to sée With speare and not with thirse in hande? with glittring helme on hed, And not with leaues? Now call to minde of whome ye all are bred, And take the stomackes of that Snake, which being one alone, Right stoutly in his owne defence confounded many one. He for his harbrough and his spring his lyfe did nobly spend.

Doe you no more but take a heart your Countie to defende. He put to death right valeant Knightes. Your battaile is with such As are but Meicocks in effect: and yet ye doe so much In conquering them, that by the déede the olde renowne ye saue, Which from your fathers by discent this present time ye haue. If fatall destnies doe forbid that Thebae long shall stande, Would God that men with Canon shot might raze it out of hande. Would God the noyse of fire and sworde did in our hearing sound. For then in this our wretchednesse there could no fault be found. Then might we iustly waile our case that all the world might sée Wée should not néede of sheading teares ashamed for to bée. But now our towne is taken by a naked beardelesse boy, Who doth not in the feates of armes nor horse nor armour ioy. But for to moyst his haire with Mirrhe, and put on garlands gay, And in soft Purple silke and golde his bodie to aray. But put to you your helping hand and straight without delay I will compell him poynt by poynt his lewdnesse to bewray, Both in vsurping Ioues high name in making him his sonne And forging of these Ceremonies lately now begonne. Hath King Atrisius heart inough this fondling for to hate? That makes himselfe to be a God? and for to shit the gate Of Argus at his comming there? and shall this rouer make King Penthey and the noble towne of Thebae thus to quake? Go quickly sirs (these wordes he spake vnto his seruaunts) go And bring the Captaine hither bound with spéede, why stay ye so? His Grandsire Cadmus, Athamas and others of his kinne Reproued him by gentle meanes but nothing could they winne: The more-intreatance that they made the fiercer was he still: The more his friendes did go about to breake him of his will. The more they did prouoke his wrath, and set his rage on fire: They made him worse in that they sought to bridle his desire. So haue I séene a brooke ere this, where nothing let the streame, Runne smooth with little noyse or none, but where as any beame Or cragged stones did let his course, and make him for to stay: It went more fiercely from the stoppe with ••omie wroth away. Beholde all bloudie come his men, and straight he them demaunded Where Bacchus was, and why they had not done as he commaunded?

Sir (aunswerde they) we saw him not, but this same fellow héere A chiefe companion in his traine and worker in this géere, Wée tooke by force: And therewithall presented to their Lord A certaine man of Tirrhene lande, his handes fast bound with cord, Whome they, frequenting Bacchus rites had found but late before. A grim and cruell looke which yre did make to séeme more sore, Did Penthey cast vpon the man. And though he scarcely stayd From putting him to tormentes strait. O wretched man (he sayde) Who by thy worthie death shalt be a sample vnto other, Declare to me the names of thée, thy father and thy mother. And in what Countrie thou wert borne, and what hath caused thée, Of these straunge rites and sacrifice, a follower for to bée. He voyd of feare made aunswere thus. Acetis is my name: Of Parentes but of lowe degrée in Lidy land I came. No ground for painfull Oxe to till, no shéepe to beare me wooll My father left me: no nor horse, nor Asse, nor Cow nor Booll. God wote he was but poore himselfe, With line and bayted hooke The frisking fishes in the pooles vpon his Réede he tooke His handes did serue in steade of landes, his substance was his craft. Nowe haue I made you true accompt of all that he me laft, As well of ryches as of trades, in which I was his heire And successour. For when that death bereft him vse of aire, Saue water he me nothing left. It is the thing alone Which for my lawfull heritage I clayme, and other none. Soone after I (bicause that loth I was to ay abide In that poore state) did learne a ship by cunning hande to guide, And for to know the raynie signe, that hight th' Olenien Gote Which with hir milke did nourish Ioue. And also I did note The Pl••iads and the Hiads moyst, and eke the siely Plough With all the dwellings of the winds that make the Seas so rough. And eke such Hauens as are méete to harbrough vessels in: With euerie starre and heauenly signe that guides to shipmen bin. Now as by chaunce I late ago did toward Dilos sayle, I came on coast of Scios Ile, and séeing day to fayle, Tooke harbrough there and went a lande. Assoone as that the night Was spent, and morning can to péere with ruddie glaring light, I rose and bad my companie fresh water fetch aboord.

And pointing them the way that led directly to the foorde, I went me to a little hill, and viewed round about To sée what weather we were lyke to haue eresetting out. Which done, I cald my watermen and all my Mates togither, And willde them all to go a boord my selfe first going thither. Loe here we are (Opheltes sayd) (he was the Maysters Mate) And (as he thought) a bootie found in desert fields a late, He dragd a boy vpon his hande that for his beautie shéene, A mayden rather than a boy appeared for to béene. This childe, as one forelade with wine, and dreint with drous••e sléepe Did réele, as though he scarcely coulde himselfe from falling kéepe. I markt his countnance, wéede and pace, no inckling could I sée, By which I might coniecture him a mortall wight to bée. I thought, and to my fellowes sayd: what God I can not tell But in this bodie that we sée some Godhead sure doth dwell. What God so euer that thou art, thy fauour to vs showe, And in our labours vs assist, and pardone these also. Pray for thy selfe and not for vs (quoth Dictys by and by.) A nimbler fellow for to climbe vpon the Mast on hie And by the Cable downe to slide, there was not in our kéele. Swart Melanth patrone of the shippe did like his saying wéele. So also did Alcimedon: and so did Libys to, And blacke Epopeus eke whose charge it did belong vnto To sée the Rowers at their tymes their dueties duely do. And so did all the rest of them: so sore mennes eyes were blinded Where couetousenesse of filthie gaine is more than reason minded. Well sirs (quoth I) but by your leaue ye shall not haue it so, I will not suffer sacriledge within this shippe to go. For I haue here the most to doe. And with that worde I stept Uppon the Hatches, all the rest from entrance to haue kept. The rankest Ruffian of the rout that Lycab had to name, (Who for a murder being late driuen out of Tu••cane came To me for succor) waxed woode, and with his sturdie fist Did giue me such a churlish blow bycause I did resist, That ouer boord he had me sent, but that with much ado I caught the tackling in my hand and helde me fast thereto: The wicked Uarlets had a sport to sée me handled so.

Then Bacchus (for it Bacchus was) as though he had but th••, Bene waked with their noyse from sléepe, and that his drous••e braine Discharged of the wine, begon to gather sence againe) Said: what a doe? what noyse is this? how came I here I pray? S••rs tell me whether you doe meane to carie me away. Feare not my boy (the Patrone sayd) no more but tell me where Thou doest desire to go a lande, and we will set thée there. To Naxus ward (quoth Bacchus tho) set ship vpon the ••ome. There would I haue harbrough take, for Naxus is my home. Like periurde Caiti••s by the Sea and all the Gods thereof, They falsly sware it should be so, and therewithall in scoffe They bade me hoyse vp saile and go. Upon the righter hand I cast about to fetch the winde, for so did Naxus stand. What meanst? art mad? Opheltes cride, and therewithall begun A feare of loosing of their pray through euery man to run. The greater part with head and hand a signe did to me make, And some did whisper in mine eare the left hand way to take. I was amazde and said take charge henceforth who will for me: For of your craft and wickednesse I will no furthrer be. Then fell they to reuiling me, and all the rout gan grudge: Of which Ethalion said in scorne: by like in you Sir snudg•• Consistes the sauegard of vs all▪ and wyth that word he takes My roume, and leauing Naxus quite to other countries makes. The God then dalying with these mates, as though he had at last Begon to smell their suttle craft, out of the foredecke cast His eye vpon the Sea: and then as though he séemde to wéepe, Sayd: sirs to bring me on this coast ye doe not promise kéepe. I sée that this is not the land the which I did request. For what occasion in this sort deserue I to be drest? What commendation can you win, or praise thereby receyue? If men a Lad, if many one ye compasse to deceyue? I wept and sobbed all this while, the wicked villaines laught, And rowed forth with might & maine, as though they had bene straught. Now euen by him (for sure than he in all the worlde so wide There is no God more neare at hand at euery time and tide.) I sweare vnto you that the things the which I shall declare, Like as they séeme incredible, euen so most true they are,

The ship stoode still amid the Sea as in a dustie docke. They wondring at this miracle, and making but a mocke, Persist in beating with their Ores, and on with all their sayles. To make their Galley to remoue, no Art nor labor fayles. But Iuie troubled so their Ores that forth they could not row: And both with Beries and with leaues their ••ailes did ouergrow And he himselfe with clustred grapes about his temples round, Did shake a Iaueling in his hand that round about was bound With leaues of Uines: and at his féete there séemed for to couch Of Tygers, Lynx, and Panthers shapes most ougly for to touch. I cannot tell you whether feare or woodnesse were the cause, But euery person leapth vp and from his labor drawes. And there one Medon first of all began to waxen blacke, And hauing lost his former shape did take a courbed backe. What Monster shall we haue of thée (quoth Licab) and with that This Licabs chappes did waxen wide, his nosethrils waxed flat, His skin waxt tough, and scales thereon began anon to grow. And Libis as he went about the Ores away to throw, Perceiued how his hands did shrinke and were become so short, That now for finnes and not for hands he might them well report. Another as he would haue claspt his arme about the corde: Had nere an arme, and so bemaimd in bodie, ouer boord He leapeth downe among the waues, and forked is his tayle As are the hornes of Phebes face when halfe hir light doth fayle. They leape about and sprinkle vp much water on the ship, One while they swim aboue, and downe againe anon they slip. They fetch their friskes as in a daunce, and wantonly they writhe Now here now there among the waues their bodies bane and lithe. And with their wide and hollow nose the water in they snuffe, And by their noses out againe as fast they doe it puffe. Of twentie persons (for our ship so many men did beare) I only did remaine nigh straught and trembling still for feare. The God could scarce recomfort me, and yet he said go too, Feare not but saile to Dia ward. His will I gladly doe. And so assoone as I came there with right deuou•• intent, His Chaplaine I became. And thus his Orgies I frequent. Thou makste a processe verie long (quoth Penthey) to thintent

That (choler being coolde by time) mine anger might relent. But Sirs (he spake it to his men) go take him by and by, With cruell torments out of hand goe cause him for to die. Immediatly they led away Acetes out of sight, And put him into prison strong from which there was no flight. But while the cruell instruments of death as sword and fire Were in preparing wherewithall t'accomplish Pentheys yre, It is reported that the doores did of their owne accorde Burst open and his chaines fall off. And yet this cruell Lorde Persisteth fiercer than before, not bidding others go But goes himselfe vnto the hill Cytheron, which as tho To Bacchus being consecrate did ring of chaunted songs, And other loud confused sounds of Bacchus drunken throngs. And euen as when the bloudie Trumpe doth to the battell sound, The lustie horse streight neying out bestirres him on the ground, And taketh courage therevpon t'assaile his emnie proud: Euen so when Penthey heard a farre the noyse and howling loud That Bacchus franticke folke did make, it set his heart on fire, And kindled fiercer than before the sparks of settled ire. There is a goodly plaine about the middle of the hill, Enuirond in with Woods, where men may view eche way at will. Here looking on these holie rites with lewde prophaned eyes King Pentheys mother first of all hir foresaid sonne espies, And like a Bedlem first of all she doth vpon him runne, And with hir Iaueling furiously she first doth wound hir sonne. Come hither sisters come she cries, here is that mighty Bore, Here is the Bore that stroyes our fieldes, him will I strike therefore. With that they fall vpon him all as though they had bene mad, And clustring all vpon a heape fast after him they gad. He quakes and shakes: his words are now become more méeke and colde: He now condemnes his owne default, and sayes he was too bolde. And wounded as he was he cries helpe Aunt Autonoë, Now for Acteons blessed soule some mercie show to me. She wist not who Acteon was, but rent without delay His right hand off: and Ino tare his tother hand away. To lift vnto his mother th•• the wretch had nere an arme: But shewing hir his maimed corse, and wound••s yet bléeding warme,

O mother sée he sayes: with that Agauë howleth out: And writhed with hir necke awrie, and shooke hir haire about. And holding from his bodie torne his head in bloudie hands, She cries: O fellowes in this déede our noble conquest stands. No sooner could the winde haue blowen the rotten leaues fro trées, When Winters frost hath bitten them, then did the hands of these Most wicked women Pentheys limmes from one another teare. The Thebanes being now by this example brought in feare, Frequent this newfound sacrifice, and with swéete frankinsence God Bacchus Altars lode with gifts in euery place doe cense.

Finis 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Libri.