The wandring daughters here and there of Atlas vpward sway.
With staring bush of hayre from hens Orion Gods doth fray:
And Perseus eke his glitteryng starres of golden glosse hath here.
From hence the twynnes of Tyndars stocke do shine, a signe full clere:
And at whose byrth first stode the grounde that erst went to and fro.
Nor onely Bacchus now himselfe, or Bacchus mother lo,
Haue clymd to Gods: least any parte should from rebuke be free,
The skies the Gnossian strumpets crownes do beare in spight of mee.
But I of old cōtemptes complayne: me, one dire, fierce, and shrewde
Thebana land with wicked broode of Ioues base daughters strewde,
How oft hath it a stepdame made? though vp to heauen should ryse,
The conqueryng drabbe Alcmena now, and hold my place in skyes,
And eke her sonne to promisd starres obtayne the worthy way,
At byrth of whom the staying worlde so long deferd the day,
And Phoebus slow frome morning sea began to glister bright,
Commaunded long in th' Ocean waues to hyde his drowned lyght.
Yet shall my hates not leaue them so, a wrathful kindled rage
His mynd in madnes shall stirre vp, and yre that may not swage
Shall euermore (all peace layd downe) wage warres eternally.
What warres? what euer hideous thinge the earth his ennemy
Begets, or what soeuer sea or ayre hath brought to syght
Both dredfull, dire, and pestilent, of cruel fiercest might,
T'is tierd and tam'd: he passeth all, and name by ills doth rayse,
And all my wrath he doth inioy, and to his greater prayse
He turnes my hates: whyle tedious toyles to much I him behest,
He proues what father him begot: both thence where light opprest
Hath sea, and where it showde agayne, where Titan day doth trayne,
And with his brand approaching nere doth dye those Aethiops twaine,
His strengh vntamde is honoured: and God eche where is hee
Now calde in worlde, and now more ••••ore of monsters want to mee,
And laboure lesse to Hercles is t'acomplish all my will,
Then me to bydde: at ease he doth myne imperies fulfyl.
What cruel hestes of tyrante now so fyerce a yong man may
Preuayle to hurt? for lo he beares for weapons now awaye
What once he fearde, and put to flight: he armed comes at syde
With Lyon fyerce and Hydra both: nor land suffiseth wyde,
But broake he hath the threshold loe of that infernall Ioue.
And spoyls with him of conquerd king he drawes to Gods aboue.
But thats but light, broke is the league of sprites that there do dwell.
I saw my selfe, I saw him lo (the night now gone, of hell