That they appeare through Lillies plenteous store, Like a Brydes Chamber flore: Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two Garlands bound, Of freshest Flowres which in that Mead they found, The which presenting all in trim Array, Their snowie Foreheads therewithall they crownd, Prepar'd against that Day, Against their Brydale day, which was not long: Ye gentle Birdes, the worlds faire ornament, And let faire Venus, that is Queene of love, Let endlesse Peace your steadfast hearts accord, And make your joyes redound, Upon your Brydale day, which is not long: 90 100 Sweete Themmes runne softlie, till I end my Song. So ended she; and all the rest around 110 Which said, their bridale daye should not be long. So forth, those joyous Birdes did passe along, And all the foule which in his flood did dwell And their best service lend, Against their wedding day, which was not long: At length they all to mery London came, 120 Though from another place I take my name, There when they came, whereas those bricky towres, Next whereunto there standes a stately place, Of that great Lord, which therein wont to dwell, Olde woes, but joyes, to tell Against the bridale daye, which is not long: Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. Yet therein now doth lodge a noble Peer, Great Englands glory and the Worlds wide wonder, 130 140 Whose dreadfull name, late through all Spaine did thunder, And Hercules two pillors standing neere, Did make to quake and feare: Faire branch of Honor, flower of Chevalrie, That fillest England with thy triumphes fame Joy have thou of thy noble victorie, And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name That through thy prowesse and victorious armes, Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes : Through al the world, fil'd with thy wide Alarmes, To ages following, Upon the Brydale day, which is not long : Sweete Themmes runne softly till I end my Song. From those high Towers this noble Lord issuing, Above the rest were goodly to bee seene Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature That like the twins of Jove they seem'd in sight, Which decke the Bauldricke of the Heavens bright. 150 160 170 Received those two faire Brides, their Loves delight, Each one did make his Bryde, Against their Brydale day, which is not long : Sweete Themmes runne softly, till I end my Song. 180 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE HERO AND LEANDER TO THE RIGHT WORSHIPFULL, SIR THOMAS WALSINGHAM, KNIGHT. Sir, wee thinke not our selves discharged of the dutie wee owe to our friend, when wee have brought the breathlesse bodie to the earth: for albeit the eye there taketh his ever farwell of that beloved object, yet the impression of the man, that hath beene deare unto us, living an after life in our memory, there putteth us in mind of farther obsequies due unto the deceased. And namely of the performance of whatsoever we may judge shal make to his living credit, and to the effecting of his determinations prevented by the stroke of death. By these meditations (as by an intellectuall will) I suppose my selfe executor to the unhappily deceased author of this Poem, upon whom knowing that in his life time you bestowed many kind favors, entertaining the parts of reckoning and woorth which you found in him, with good countenance and liberall affection: I cannot but see so far into the will of him dead, that whatsoever issue of his brain should chance to come abroad, that the first breath it should take might be the gentle aire of your liking : for since his selfe had been accustomed therunto, it would proove more agreeable and thriving to his right children, than any other foster countenance whatsoever. At this time seeing that this unfinished Tragedy happens under my hands to be imprinted; of a double duty, the one to your selfe, the other to the deceased, I present the same to your most favourable allowance, offring my utmost selfe now and ever to bee readie, At your Worships disposing: EDWARD BLUNT. THE ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST SESTYAD Heros description and her Loves, The Phane of Venus; where he moves Which tale the Author doth implie. ON Hellespont guiltie of True loves blood, 10 Her wide sleeves greene, and bordered with a grove, To please the carelesse and disdainfull eies, Of proud Adonis that before her lies. Her kirtle blew, whereon was many a staine, Made with the blood of wretched Lovers slaine. Upon her head she ware a myrtle wreath, From whence her vaile reacht to the ground beneath. And looking in her face, was strooken blind. 20 30 As he imagyn'd Hero was his mother; 40 About her naked necke his bare armes threw ; And laid his childish head upon her brest, And with still panting rockt, there tooke his rest. As nature wept, thinking she was undone; Because she tooke more from her than she left, And of such wondrous beautie her bereft : Therefore in signe her treasure suffred wracke, Since Heroes time, hath halfe the world beene blacke. 50 (Whose tragedie divine Musaeus soong) Dwelt at Abydos; since him, dwelt there none, 60 His bodie was as straight as Circes wand, So was his necke in touching, and surpast How smooth his brest was, and how white his bellie, That heavenly path, with many a curious dint, Of his owne shadow, and despising many, His presence made the rudest paisant melt, That in the vast uplandish countrie dwelt, 80 The barbarous Thracian soldier moov'd with nought, Was moov'd with him, and for his favour sought. 90 Some swore he was a maid in mans attire, For in his lookes were all that men desire, To meet their loves; such as had none at all, Came lovers home from this great festivall. For everie street like to a Firmament Glistered with breathing stars, who where they went, Eternall heaven to burne, for so it seem'd, As if another Phaethon had got The guidance of the sunnes rich chariot. 100 110 |