The humble shrubs and bushes hide the grass,
Here laurel, rosemary, here myrtle was :
Here grew thick box, and tam’risk, that excels,
And made a mere confusion of sweet smells.
The triffoly, the pine ; and on this heath
Stands many a plant that feels cold Zephyr's breath.
Here the young CEPĦALUS, tir’d in the chace,
Us’d his repose and rest alone ť embrace;
And where he sat, these words he would repeat,
“ Come, air, sweet air, come cool my mighty heat !
Come, gentle air, I never will forsake thee,
I'll hug thee thus, and in my bosom take thee."
Some double duteous tell-tale hapt to hear this,
And to his jealous wife doth straightway bear this ;
Which PROCRIS hearing, and withal the name
Of air, sweet air, which he did oft proclaim,
She stands confounded, and amaz'd with grief,
By giving this fond tale too 'sound belief.
And looks, as do the trees by winter nipt,
Whom frost and cold of fruit and leaves half stript.
She bends like corveil, when too rank it grows,
Or when the ripe fruits clog the quince-tree boughs.
But when she comes t herself, she tears
Her garments, eyes, her cheeks, and hairs;
And then she starts, and to her feet applies her,
Then to the wood (stark wood) in rage she hies her.
Approaching somewhat near, her servants they
By her appointment in a valley stay;


While she alone, with creeping paces, steals
To take the strumpet, whom her lord conceals.
What means thou, PROCRIS, in these groves to hide thee!
What rage of love doth to this madness guide thee?
Thou hop'st the air he calls, in all her bravery,
Will strait approach, and thou shalt see their knavery.
And now again it irks her to be there.
For such a killing sight her heart will tear.
No truce can with her troubled thoughts dispense,
She would not now be there, nor yet be thence.
Behold the place her jealous mind foretels,
Here do they use to meet, and no where else :
The grass is laid, and see their true impression,
Even here they lay! aye, here was their transgression,
A body's print she saw, it was his seat,
Which makes her faint heart 'gainst her ribs to beat.
PH@bus the lofty eastern hill had scald,
And all moist vapours from the earth exhald.
Now in his noon-tide point he shineth bright,
It was the middle hour, 'twixt noon and night.
Behold young Cephalus draws to the place,
And with the fountain water sprinks his face.
PROCRIS is hid, upon the grass he lies,
And come, sweet Zepyr, come, sweet air, he cries.
She sees her errur now from where he stood,
Her mind returns to her, and her fresh blood;
Among the shrubs and briers she moves and rustles,
And the injurious boughs away she justles.


Intending, as he lay there to repose hiin,
Nimbly to run, and in her arms inclose him.
He quickly casts his eye upon the bush,
Thinking therein sume savage beast did rush ;
His bow he bends, and a keen shaft he draws :
Unhappy man, what dost thou ? stay, and pause,
It is no brute beast thou would'st 'reave of life;
0! man unhappy ! thou hast slain thy wife !
O heaven ! she cries, O help me! I am slain;
Still doth thy arrow in my wound remain.
Yet tho’ by timeless fate my bones here lie,
It glads me most, that I no cuck-queen die.
Her breath (thus in the arms she most affected)
She breathes into the air (before suspected)
The whilst he lifts her body from the ground,
And with his tears doth wash her bleeding wound.


CUPID laid by his brand, and fell asleep;
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground:
Which borrow'd from his holy fire of love,
A dateless lively heat still to endure,
And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove,
Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.


But at my mistress' eyes love's brand new fired,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast ;
I sick withal the help of bath desired,
And thither hied a sad distemper'd guest :

But found no cure, the bath for my help lies,
When Cupid got new fire, my mistress' eyes.

The little lore-god lying once asleep,
Laid by his side his heart and faming brand,
Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep,
Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand,
The fairest votary took up that fire,
Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd;
And so the general of hot desire
Was sleeping, by a virgin hand disarm’d.
This brand she quench'd in a cool well by,
Which from love's fire took heat perpetual,
Growing a bath and healthful remedy
For men diseas'd; but I my mistress' thrall,

Came there for cure, and this by that I prove,
Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.




WHEN MENELAUS from his house is gone,
PoorHELEN is afraid to lie alone;
And to allay these fears (lodg’d in her breast)
In her warm bosom she receives her guest.
What madness was this, Menelaus, say?
Thou art abroad, whilst in the house doth stay,
Under the self-same roof, thy guest, and love :
Madman! unto the bawk thou trusts the dove.
And wbo but such a gull, would give to keep
Unto the mountain wolf, full folds of sheep?
Helen is blameless, so is Paris too,
And did what thou, or I myself would do.
The fault is thine, I tell thee to thy face,
By limiting these lovers, time and place.
From these the seeds of all thy wrongs are grown,
Whose counsels have they follow'd but thine own?
Alack ! what should they do? abroad thou art,
At home thou leav’st thy guest to play thy part.
To lie alone, the poor queen is afraid,
In the next room an amorous stranger staid ;
Her arms are ope t embrace him, he falls in :
And, Paris, I acquit thee of the sin

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