His fearful helm, that on the earth cast round about it light;

Then took and kiss'd his loving son, and (balancing his weight

In dancing him) these loving vows to living Jove he used,

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And all the other bench of Gods: "O you that have infused

Soul to this infant, now set down this blessing on his star:

Let his renown be clear as mine; equal his strength in war;

And make his reign so strong in Troy, that years to come may yield

His facts this fame, when, rich in spoils, he leaves the conquer'd field

Sown with his slaughters: "These high deeds exceed his father's worth.'

And let this echo'd praise supply the comforts to come forth

Of his kind mother with my life." This said, th' heroic sire

Gave him his mother; whose fair eyes fresh streams of love's salt fire

Billow'd on her soft cheeks, to hear the last of Hector's speech,

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In which his vows comprised the sum of all he did beseech

In her wish'd comfort. So she took into her odorous breast

Her husband's gift; who moved to see her heart so much oppress'd,

He dried her tears. and thus desired: "Afflict me not, dear wife,

With these vain griefs. He doth not live, that can disjoin my life

And this firm bosom, but my fate; and Fate whose wings can fly?

Noble, ignoble, Fate controls. Once born, the best must die.

Go home, and set thy housewifery on these extremes of thought;

And drive war from them with thy maids; keep them from doing nought.

These will be nothing; leave the cares of war to men, and me, 530

In whom, of all the Ilion race, they take their highest degree."

FROM THE TWELFTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ODYSSEYS

"First to the Sirens ye shall come, that taint The minds of all men whom they can acquaint With their attractions. Whosoever shall,

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To try their motion; but presume not so
To trust your judgment, when your senses go
So loose about you, but give strait command
To all your men, to bind you foot and hand
Sure to the mast, that you may safe approve
How strong in instigation to their love
Their rapting tunes are. If so much they move,
That, spite of all your reason, your will stands
To be enfranchised both of feet and hands,
Charge all your men before to slight your charge,
And rest so far from fearing to enlarge

That much more sure they bind you. When your friends

Have outsail'd these, the danger that transcends
Rests not in any counsel to prevent,
Unless your own mind finds the tract and bent
Of that way that avoids it. I can say
That in your course there lies a twofold way,
The right of which your own taught present wit,
And grace divine, must prompt. In general yet
Let this inform you: Near these Sirens' shore
Move two steep rocks, at whose feet lie and roar
The black sea's cruel billows; the bless'd Gods
Call them the Rovers. Their abhorr'd abodes
No bird can pass; no not the doves, whose fear
Sire Jove so loves that they are said to bear
Ambrosia to him, can their ravine scape,
But one of them falls ever to the rape
Of those sly rocks; yet Jove another still
Adds to the rest, that so may ever fill
The sacred number. Never ship could shun
The nimble peril wing'd there, but did run
With all her bulk, and bodies of her men,
To utter ruin. For the seas retain
Not only their outrageous æsture there,
But fierce assistants of particular fear
And supernatural mischief they expire,

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And those are whirlwinds of devouring fire
Whisking about still. Th' Argive ship alone,
(Which bore the care of all men) got her gone,
Come from Areta. Yet perhaps even she
Had wrack'd at those rocks, if the Deity,
That lies by Jove's side, had not lent her hand
To their transmission; since the man, that mann'd
In chief that voyage, she in chief did love.
Of these two spiteful rocks, the one doth shove
Against the height of heaven her pointed brow.
A black cloud binds it round, and never show
Lends to the sharp point; not the clear blue sky
Lets ever view it, not the summer's eye,

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Not fervent autumn's. None that death could end
Could ever scale it, or, if up, descend,
Though twenty hands and feet he had for hold.
A polish'd ice-like glibness doth enfold
The rock so round, whose midst a gloomy cell
Shrouds so far westward that it sees to hell.
From this keep you as far as from his bow
An able young man can his shaft bestow.
For here the whuling Scylla shrouds her face,
That breathes a voice at all parts no more base
Than are newly-kitten'd kitling's cries,
Herself a monster yet of boundless size,
Whose sight would nothing please a mortal's eyes;
No, nor the eyes of any God, if he
(Whom nought should fright) fell foul on her, and

she

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Her full shape show'd. Twelve foul feet bear about

Her ugly bulk. Six huge long necks look'd out
Of her rank shoulders; every neck doth let
A ghastly head out; every head three set,
Thick thrust together, of abhorred teeth;
And every tooth stuck with a sable death;

"She lurks in midst of all her den, and streaks From out a ghastly whirlpool all her necks; Where (gloating round her rock) to fish she falls; And up rush dolphins, dogfish; some-whiles whales,

If got within her when her rapine feeds;
For ever-groaning Amphitrite breeds
About her whirlpool an unmeasured store.
No sea-man ever boasted touch of shore

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That there touch'd with his ship, but still she fed
Of him and his; a man for every head
Spoiling his ship of. You shall then descry
The other humbler rock, that moves so nigh
Your dart may mete the distance. It receives
A huge wild fig-tree, curl'd with ample leaves,
Beneath whose shades divine Charybdis sits, 162
Supping the black deeps. Thrice a day her pits
She drinks all dry, and thrice a day again
All up she belches, baneful to sustain.
When she is drinking, dare not near her draught,

For not the force of Neptune (if once caught) Can force your freedom. Therefore, in your strife

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To scape Charybdis, labour all, for life,
To row near Scylla, for she will but have
For her six heads six men; and better save
The rest, than all make offerings to the wave."
This need she told me of my loss, when I
Desired to know, if that Necessity,
When I had scaped Charybdis' outrages,
My powers might not revenge, though not redress.
She answers: “O unhappy! art thou yet
Enflamed with war, and thirst to drink thy sweat?
Not to the Gods give up both arms and will?
She deathless is, and that immortal ill
Grave, harsh, outrageous, not to be subdued,
That men must suffer till they be renew'd.
Nor lives there any virtue that can fly
The vicious outrage of their cruelty.
Shouldst thou put arms on, and approach the rock,
I fear six more must expiate the shock.
Six heads six men ask still. Hoise sail, and fly,
And, in thy flight, aloud on Cratis cry
(Great Scylla's mother, who exposed to light
That bane of men) and she will do such right 190
To thy observance, that she down will tread
Her daughter's rage, nor let her show a head.
"From henceforth then, for ever past her care,
Thou shalt ascend the isle triangular,
Where many oxen of the Sun are fed,
And fatted flocks. Of oxen fifty head
In every herd feed, and their herds are seven;
And of his fat flocks is their number even.
Increase they yield not, for they never die.
There every shepherdess a Deity.
Fair Phaethusa, and Lampetie,

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The lovely Nymphs are that their guardians be,
Who to the daylight's lofty-going flame
Had gracious birthright from the heavenly dame,
Still young Neæra; who (brought forth and bred)
Far off dismiss'd them, to see duly fed
Their father's herds and flocks in Sicily.
These herds and flocks if to the Deity
Ye leave, as sacred things, untouch'd, and on
Go with all fit care of your home, alone,
(Though through some sufferance) you yet safe
shall land

In wished Ithaca. But if impious hand
You lay on those herds to their hurts, I then
Presage sure ruin to thy ship and men.
If thou escapest thyself, extending home
Thy long'd-for landing, thou shalt loaded come
With store of losses, most exceeding late,
And not consorted with a saved mate."

This said, the golden-throned Aurora rose,
She her way went, and I did mine dispose

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Up to my ship, weigh'd anchor, and away.
When reverend Circe help'd us to convey
Our vessel safe, by making well inclined
A seaman's true companion, a forewind,
With which she fill'd our sails; when, fitting all
Our arms close by us, I did sadly fall
To grave relation what concern'd in fate

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My friends to know, and told them that the state
Of our affairs' success, which Circe had
Presaged to me alone, must yet be made
To one nor only two known, but to all;
That, since their lives and deaths were left to fall
In their elections, they might life elect,
And give what would preserve it fit effect.

I first inform'd them, that we were to fly
The heavenly-singing Sirens' harmony,
And flower-adorned meadow; and that I
Had charge to hear their song, but fetter'd fast
In bands, unfavour'd, to th' erected mast;
From whence, if I should pray, or use command,
To be enlarged, they should with much more
band

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The Sirens' isle; a spleenless wind so stretch'd
Her wings to waft us, and so urged our keel.
But having reach'd this isle, we could not feel
The least gasp of it, it was stricken dead,
And all the sea in prostrate slumber spread:
The Sirens' devil charm'd all. Up then flew
My friends to work, strook sail, together drew,
And under hatches stow'd them, sat, and plied
Their polish'd oars, and did in curls divide
The white-head waters. My part then came on:
A mighty waxen cake I set upon,

Chopp'd it in fragments with my sword, and wrought

With strong hand every piece, till all were soft.
The great power of the sun, in such a beam
As then flew burning from his diadem,
To liquefaction help'd us. Orderly

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"Come here, thou worthy of a world of praise, That dost so high the Grecian glory raise; Ulysses stay thy ship, and that song hear That none pass'd ever but it bent his ear, But left him ravish'd and instructed more By us, than any ever heard before. For we know all things whatsoever were In wide Troy labour'd; whatsoever there The Grecians and the Trojans both sustain'd By those high issues that the Gods ordain'd. And whatsoever all the earth can show T' inform a knowledge of desert, we know." This they gave accent in the sweetest strain That ever open'd an enamour'd vein.

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When my constrain'd heart needs would have mine

ear

Yet more delighted, force way forth, and hear.
To which end I commanded with all sign
Stern looks could make (for not a joint of mine
Had power to stir) my friends to rise, and give
My limbs free way. They freely strived to drive
Their ship still on. When, far from will to loose,
Eurylochus and Perimedes rose
To wrap me surer, and oppress'd me more
With many a halser than had use before.
When, rowing on without the reach of sound,
My friends unstopp'd their ears, and me unbound,
And that isle quite we quitted.

ROBERT GREENE (1560?-1592)

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Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content; The quiet mind is richer than a crown; Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent; The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown: Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss, 5

Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.

Gold their god; and some esteem
Honour is the chief content
That to man in life is lent.
And some others do contend,
Quiet none like to a friend.
Others hold there is no wealth
Compared to a perfect health.
Some man's mind in quiet stands,
When he is lord of many lands.
But I did sigh, and said all this
Was but a shade of perfect bliss;
And in my thoughts I did approve,
Nought so sweet as is true love.
Love 'twixt lovers passeth these,
When mouth kisseth and heart 'grees,
With folded arms and lips meeting,
Each soul another sweetly greeting;

For by the breath the soul fleeteth,
And soul with soul in kissing meeteth.
If love be so sweet a thing,

That such happy bliss doth bring,
Happy is love's sugared thrall,
But unhappy maidens all,

Child and mother, baby bless,

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

MENAPHON'S SONG

Some say Love,

Foolish Love,

Doth rule and govern all the gods:

I say Love,

Inconstant Love,

Sets men's senses far at odds.

Some swear Love,

Smooth-faced Love,

Is sweetest sweet that men can have:

I say Love,

Sour Love,

Makes virtue yield as beauty's slave. A bitter sweet, a folly worst of all, That forceth wisdom to be folly's thrall.

Love is sweet,

Wherein sweet?

In fading pleasures that do pain. Beauty sweet:

Is that sweet

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That minute's joys are monthly woes: 'Tis not sweet,

His flocks are folded, he comes home at night, As merry as a king in his delight;

And merrier too:

For kings bethink them what the state require, Where shepherds careless carol by the fire.

Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?
He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat
His cream and curds as doth the king his meat;
And blither too:

For kings have often fears when they do sup,
Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup.
Ah then, ah then,

If country loves such sweet desires do gain,
What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

To bed he goes, as wanton then, I ween,
As is a king in dalliance with a queen;

More wanton too:

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