Loving, not to love at all, and every part The rites would pleasing matter minister The proper virtue of it, make it so, Into her throne; and at her humorous breasts So had the matrons, that with confits stood Which tale the author doth imply. Whose careless hair, instead of pearl t’adorn it, Or capable of any form at all. Night close and silent now goes fast before That Fortune should a chaste affection bless: That day Aurora double grace obtain’d, Made with the blood of wretched lovers slain. The hardness of their first life in their last; Whereat she starts, puts on her purple weeds, Her health said she must live; her sex, dissemble. transcription And would not let him swim, forseeing his harms: And outward forms embraceth inwardly, Rich robes themselves and others do adorn; Is neither essence subject to the eye, At Sestos, Hero dwelt; Hero the faire, VVhom young Apollo courted for her haire, And offred as a dovver his burning throne, VVhere she should sit for men to gaze vpon. And still renews our woes for Hero’s woe; Printed by Adam Islip, Nor could the youth abstain, but he must wear That neither’s draught be consecrate to sleep; The high contents desert and virtue moves. To blow it down: which, staring up, dismay’d First to black Eurus flies the white Leucote. And in her sacred state of priesthood shine, Glad to disclaim herself, proud of an art With searching the lamenting waves for him: That pulls or shakes it from the golden tree. “O Hero, Hero!” thus he cried full oft; One is no number; maids are nothing, then, And there for honey bees have sought in vain, And fell in drops like tears because they miss’d him. knowing that in his life time you bestowed many kind fauors, Her beauties were with all love’s joys renew’d; And found him leaning, with his arms in folds, Knew with affright his wreck’d Leander’s voice, But bleating flocks, and many a bellowing herd, To seats of gods, were Ceremony slain. The field his arms. He fell on Hymen’s hand, who straight did spy She wrought a sea, in one flame, full of ships; And she would haste and tell. And wound them on his arm, and for her mourn’d. Her down-parts in a scorpion’s tail combin’d, And this by Fate into her mind was sent, Did charm her nimble feet, and made her stay, At length, one cheering other, call for wine; Beauty in heaven and earth this grace doth win, O, none but gods have power their love to hide! In all the fair of beauty: yet he wanted Of half a bird-bolt’s shoot, keeping more coil As he ought not perform, nor yet she ask; With that, he stripp’d him to the ivory skin, In sacred harmony, and every birth T’ exchange with mortals rites for rites in love! Which, gathering in one line a thousand rays Out of the narrow Thames with winds unapt, such words as these should I abhor, Even as thy beauties did the foul black seas; Brought after him to feasts; and much palm bears Warm went their beams to his beholder’s heart, She fell on her love’s bosom, hugg’d it fast, A sacred temple, holding her a goddess. And to this day is every scholar poor: So did the lily and the hand their white. Chapman, who supplied also the Arguments for the six Sestiads. As after chanc’d, they did each other spy. And scalding tempests made the earth to shrink Occurrents, these occurrents being so dear, By English force in princely Essex’ guide, My soul’s dark offspring, willing it should die Relenting Hero’s gentle heart was strook: Of threatened mischiefs; it would bring asleep True love is mute, and oft amazed stands. Melted like pitch, as blue as any vein; Enclos’d her in his arms, and kiss’d her too: With Até, stirs the winds to war All deep enrag’d, his sinewy bow he bent, other O, what grief did fill him! Which she at others threw with greatest terror. In number after her with bloody beams; When suddenly a light of twenty hues And good deeds fruits; even those good deeds that grow There might you see one sigh; another rage; Musaeus' Hero and Leander : introduction, Greek text, translation and commentary. For help to sea-born Venus she denied; Her mind pure, and her tongue untaught to glose: And fingering of a silver lute she tied Like his dear name: “Leander, still my choice, O, come, soft rest of cares! Sends forth a rattling murmur to the land, Now rapt with pastimes, pomp, all joys impure: And when the yellow issue of the sky farwell of that beloued obiect, yet the impression of the man, that For much it griev’d her that the bright day-light These he regarded not; but did entreat Should be embath’d, and swim in more heart’s-ease Doth private sacrifice effect. Were they made seen and forced through their blood; And draw Leander on, lest seas too high And tired senses of these lawless swains. On her this god Now (as swift as Time As loathe to see Leander going out.