Poems and translations amorous, lusory, morall, divine [collected and translated] by Edvvard Sherburne ...

Forsaken LYDIA.

Out of the Italian of Cavalier Marino.

IN Thunder now the hollow Cannon roar'd, To call the farre-fam'd Warriours aboard, Who that great feud (enkindled 'twixt the French And German) with their bloud attempt to quench. Now in the open Sea they proudly ride, And the soft Chrystall with rude Oares divide; Perfidious Armillus at once tore His Heart from Lydia, Anchor from the shore.

••T was Night, and Aged Proteus had driv'n home His numerous Heard, fleec't with the Seas white fome; The Winds were laid to rest, the fishes slept, The wearied world a generall silence kept, No noise, save from the Surges hollow caves, Or liquid silver of the justling waves, Whilst the bright Lanthorns shot such trembling light, As dazled all the twinkling eyes of Night.

The faire Inamorata (who from farre Had spy'd the Ship which her hearts treasure bare, Put off from Land; and now quite disembay'd, Her Cables coiled, and her Anchors weigh'd, Whilst gentle gales her swelling sailes did court To turn in scorn her Poop upon the Port) With frantick speed from the detested Town To the deserted shore comes hurrying down.

As the Idaean Shepheard stood amaz'd, Whilst on the sacred Ravisher he gaz'd, Who snatch'd the beauteous Trojan youth away, And wafted through the yeelding Clouds his prey; Or as that Artist whose bold hand durst shape Wings to his shoulders (desperately to scape A loathed servitude) through untrac'd skies Creets King pursu'd with fierce, yet wondring Eyes:

The flying Navy Lyd••a so beheld, Her Eyes with Teares, her Heart with Passion swell'd; In sighs to these she gave continuall vent, And those in brinish streames profusely spent: But tears and sighs alas bestowes in vain, Borne by the sportive Wind to the deaf Main; The Main, who griefe inexorably mocks, As she her self is scorn'd by steady Rocks▪

O what a black Eclipse did straight disguise In Clouds the Sunshine of her lovely Eyes! She tore her Cheeks, Hair, Garments, and imprest Marks of his falshood on her guiltlesse breast. She cals on her disloyall Lovers Name, And sends such sad loud Accents to reclame The Fugitive, as if at every cry Her weary soul forth with her voice would fly.

Whither, ah Cruell! There, full grief represt Her Tongue, and taught her Eyes to weep the rest; Whither, ah Cruell, from the hollow side Of the next Rock the Vocall Nymph replied. In Tears and Sighs the Water and the Aire Contend which in her sorrowes most shall share; And the sad Sea hoarse with incessant grones Wakens her faint grief, and supplyes her mones.

Oh stop kind Zephyre bu•• one minutes space, (She cries) the swelling Sailes impetuous race, That my expiring groanes may reach the eare Of him who flyes from her he will not heare. Perhaps, though whilst alive I cannot please, My dying Cryes his Anger may appease, And my last Fall, Trophey of his Disdain, May yeeld delight, and his lost Love regain▪

Receive my heart in this extreme farewell, Thou in whom Cruelty and Beauty dwell, With Thee it fied; but what alas for me Is it to lose my Heart who have lost Thee? Thou art my better selfe; Thou of my heart, The soul, more than the soul that moves it, art: And if thou sentence me to suffer death (My Life) to Thee let me resign my breath.

Alas I doe not aske to live content, That were a blessing me Fate never meant; All that my wishes a••me at, is, that I (And that's but a poore wish) Content may dye; And if my heart, by Thee already slain, Some reliques yet of a loath'd life retain, Oh let them by thy pitty find release, And in thy Armes breath forth their last in Peace.

No greater happinesse than Death I crave, So in thy dearest sight I death may have; And if thy hand, arm'd with relentlesse Pride, Shall the small thread of my poor Life divide, What Pleasure than that Sorrow would be higher? VVhen I in Paradice at least expire; And so at once the different Arrowes prove, Of Death from thy hand, from thy Eyes of Love.

Ah! if so pleas'd thou art with Wars alarmes; If that be it that cals thee from my Armes; If thou aspi••'st by some advent'rous toiles To raise proud Trophyes deckt with glorious spoiles, Why fondly dost thou seek for these elsewhere? Why leav'••t thou me a pris'ner to despair? Turn; nor thy willing Captive thus forsake, And thou shalt all my Victories partake.

Though I to thy dear Eyes a Captive be, Thousands of Lovers are no lesse to me. Unhappy! who contend and sue for sight Of that which thou unkindly thus dost slight; Is't not a high attempt that can comprize Within one Act so many Victories; To triumph over Triumphs, and subdue At once the Victor and the Vanquish'd too?

But if to stay with me thou dost refuse, And the rude Company of Souldiers choose, Yet give me leave to goe along with Thee, And in the Army thy Attendant be. Love, though a child and blind, the Wars hath known▪ Can handle Armes, and buckle Armour on; And thou shalt see, my courage will disdain (Save of thy Death) all fear to entertain,

I will securely 'midst the arm'd Troops run, Venus hath been Mars 'his Companion; And though the heart in thy obdurate Breast Be with an Adamantine Corslet drest, Yet I in stead (to guard thee from all harm) With my own hands will thy fair body arm, And the Reward Love did from me detain In peace, in War shall by this service gain.

And if it fortune that thou undergoe Some dangerous hurt by the prevailing Foe, I sadly by thy side will sit to keep Thee company, and as thou groan'st will weep. My Sorrow with thy Anguish shall comply, I will thy Bloud, and thou my Tears shalt dry: Thus by an equall sympathy of pure Affections we each others wounds will cure.

Perhaps when he this sweet effect of Love Shall see, the happy President may move The stubborn Enemy more mild to grow, And to so soft a yoak his stiffe neck bow, Who by himself gladly betraid to thine, Shall willingly his own Command resigne. So by a way of Conquest strangely new, Thou shalt at once Love, Armes, and Soules subdue.

Ah most unhappy! he to these sad cries Inexorable his deafe eare denies; And far more cruell than the rough Seas are, Laughs at my sighs, and slights my juster Prayer. See, whilst 'thou spreadst thy sailes to catch the Wind, What a sad Object thou hast left behind. Of War alas why dost thou goe in quest? Thou leav'st a fiercer War within my Breast.

Thou fly'st thy Country and more happy state▪ To seek in some strange Land a stranger Fate▪ And under forraign Climes and unknown Stars▪ T' encounter hazards of destructive Wars; Eager to thrust thy self (lavish of breath) Upon Disasters, Dangers, Bloud and Death, Changing (ah too unwary, too unwise) Thy certain Joyes for an uncertain Prize.

Can it be true thou more thy self should'st please With busie troubles than delightfull ease, And lik'st th' enraged Deeps rough toiles above The calmer pleasures and sweet sports of Love? Canst thou from a soft bosome fly (ah lost To gentlenesse▪) to be on rude Waves tost? And rather choose in Seas a restlesse Grave, Than in these Arms a quiet Port to have?

With furrowing Keel thou plow'st the foming Main, And (O o••durate) hearst not me complain; Too swift thou fly'st for Loves slow wings t'oretake, Love, whom perfidiously thou didst forsake; And all the way thou swell'st with Pride, to know The suff'rings for thy sake I undergoe, Whilst the mild East to flatter thy Desires With his soft Breath thy flagging Sail inspires.

Go faithlesse Youth, faithlesse and foolish too, Thy Fate, or folly rather, still pursue; Go, and now thou art from my Fetters free, Never take care who sighs or dyes for Thee. Oh! if the Heavens are just, if ever they With Eyes impartiall humane wrongs survey, Heaven, heaven my tears implore, to Heaven I cry, Avenge my suff'rings, and his Treachery.

Be Seas and Skyes thy foes! no gentle gale Blow on thy ••hrowds! destruction sill thy Saile! No Star to thee (lost in despair and Night) When thou invok'st, disclose its friendly Light. To Scythian Pyrats, (such as shall despise Thy fruitless tears) mayst thou become a Prize, By whose inhumane usage mayst thou be Spoil'd of the Liberty thou took'st from me.

Then thou the difference shalt understand Betwixt the shafts shot from a Thracian hand, And Lovers eye; the odds betwixt a rude Insulting Foe, and Loves soft servitude: The Breast his golden Darts not pierc'd, shall feel The sharp Impression of more cruell steel, And thou enslav'd, which are the stronger prove The fetters of Barbarians, or of Love.

Ye Seas and Skies, which of my amorous care The kindly faithfull Secretaries are, To you my crying Sorrows I addresse, To you the witnesses of my distresse; Shores by the losse of my fair Sun forlorn, Winds who my sole delight away have born, Rocks the Spectators of my haplesse Fate, And Night that hearst me mourn disconsolate.

Nor without reason is't (alas) that I To Stars and Sands bewail my misery; For with my State they some proportion bear, And numberlesse as are my woes appear. Heaven in this Quire of beautious Lights doth seem To represent what I have losse in him; The Sea to whom his flight I chiefly owe, His heart in Rocks, my tears in Waves doth show.

And since to these Eternall Fires whose Light Makes Sleep's dark Mansion so ••erenely bright I turn; what one amongst them shall I find To pitty me above the rest inclin'd? She who in Naxos when forsook did meet A better Spouse than him she chose in Cr••et, Though all the rest severely are intent To work me harm, should be more mildly bent.

Oh Thou who guid'st the Pompous train of Night, With the addition of thy glorious Light, Whose radiant hair a Crown adorns, whence streams The dazling lustre of seven blazing Gems: If that Extremity thou not forget, If thy own sorrows thou remember yet, Stop at my sighs a while, and make the Crue Of thy bright fellows stay and hearken too.

Thou know'st the like occasions of our Fate, Both circumvented by unkind Deceit; A cruell I, a Love ungratefull Thou Didst follow, both to equall suff'rings bow, In this to thine a near resemblance bears. The Cause that dooms me to eternall Tears; I now am left as thou wert heretofore Alone upon the solitary Shore.

But how th•• ever our misfortunes share The same Effects, their Causes diff'rent are; I my poor self no other have deceiv'd; Thy Brother was through thee of Life bereav'd. Sleep thy Betrayer was, but Love was mine, Thou by thy short Eclipse didst brighter shine, And in the Skyes a Crown of Stars obtain, But I on Earth (forsaken) still remain.

Fool, to whose care dost thou thy grief impart? What dost thou talk, or know'st thou where thou art? She midst a dancing Bevy of fair Lights Trips it away, and thy misfortune slights: Yet happy may she go, and her clear beams, Whilst I lament, drench in the Brinish streams; Perhaps the Sea to my afflicted state, Will prove then her lesse incompassionate.

But how on Seas for help should I relye, Where nothing we but Waves and Rocks can spye? Yet so small hopes of succour hath my grief, That of those Rocks and Waves I beg Relief. Down from these Rocks, of Life my troubled Breast, By a sad Precipice may be releast, And my impu••er soul in these Waves may Quench her Loose Flames, and wash her stains away.

Ah Lydia, Lydia, whither dost thou send Thy lost Complaint? Why words so fruitless spend To angry Waves? to Winds where horror roars? To Rocks that have no ears? to sencelesse shores? Thou giv'st thy grief this Liberty in vain, If Liberty from grief thou canst not gain; And fond presumption will thy hopes abuse, Unlesse thou grief and life together lose.

Dye then: so shall my Ghost (as with despair Laden it flyes) raise in the troubled Air Tempests more lowd than Thunder, Storms more black Than Hell or Horrour, in curl'd Waves to wrack His Ship and him: so (and 'tis just) shall I And my proud Foe, at least together dy: On him who first these bitter Sorrows bred, Seas shall avenge the Seas of Tears I shed.

This said, she made a stop; and with rash hast (By violent despair assisted) cast Her self down headlong in the raging Sea, Where she beleev'd it deepest; Now to be Sadly by her enrich'd; whilst from her fair Vermilion lips, bright eyes, Phaebeian hair, Corall a purer tincture doth endue, Chrystall new light, Pearls a more Orient hue.

Such was the haplesse fate of Lydia, Who in those Waves from which the King of Day Each morn ascends the blushing East, in those From which the Queen of Love and Beauty rose, A second Queen of Love and Beauty perish'd, Who in her Looks a thousand Graces cherish'd; And by a sad Fate (not unpittied yet) A second Sun eternally did set.

Sweet Beauty, the sad wrack of ruthlesse Seas, And ill plac'd Love, whom cruell Destinies Have food for Monsters made, and sport for Waves, With whom so many Graces had their graves, If vain be not my hopes, If no dead fire These Lines devoted to thy Name inspire, Though buried in the Seas salt Waves thouly, Yet in Oblivions Waves thou shalt not dy.

FINIS.