ermes, the Sonne of Ioue and Maia, sing,(O Muse) th'Arcadian, & Ollenian King:They rich in flocks; he heauen enriching still,In Messages, return'd with all his will.Whom glorious Maia (The Nimph rich in haire)Mixing with Ioue, in amorous affaire;Brought forth to him: sustaining a retreatFrom all th'Immortalls of the blessed seat;And liuing in the same darke Caue; where IoueInform'd, at mid-night, the effect of loue,Vnknowne to either man or Deitie:Sweet sleepe once, hauing seas'd the ielous eyeOf Iuno, deckt with wrists of iuorie.But when great Ioues high minde was consummate,The tenth moneth had in heauen confin'de the dateOf Maias Labour; And into the sightShe brought, in one birth, Labours infinite.For then she bore a sonne, that all tried waiesCould turne, and winde, to wisht euents, assaies.A faire tongu'd, but false-hearted Counsellor.Rector of Ox-stealers; and for all stealths, boreA varied singer. Speeder of Nights spiesAnd guide of all her dreames obscurities.Guard of dore-Guardians: and was borne to beAmongst th'Immortalls, that wing'd Deitie,That in an instant, should doe acts would askeThe Powres of others, and Eternall Taske.Borne, in the Morne; He form'd his Lute at Noone;At Night stole all the Oxen of the Sunne;And all this in his Births first day was done;Which was the fourth of the encreasing Moone.Because Celestiall lims, sustain'd his straines;His sacred swath-hands, must not be his chaines.So (starting up) to Phœbus Herde he stept;Found strait, the high-roof't Caue where they were kept,And (th'entrie passing) he th'inuention found,Of making Lutes; and did in wealth aboundBy that Inuention; Since He first of all,Was author of that Engine Musicall.By this meane, mou'd to the ingenious worke:Nere the Caues inmost ouerture, did lurkeA Tortois, tasting th'odoriferous grasse;Leisurely mouing; and this Obiect wasThe motiue to Ioues Sonne (who could conuertTo profitablest uses, all desertThat nature had in any worke conuaid)To forme the Lute: when (smiling) thus he said;Thou mou'st in me, a note of excellent vse;Which thy ill forme, shall neuer so seduceT'euert the good, to be inform'd by it,In pliant force, of my forme-forging wit.Then the slowe Tortois, wrought on by his minde,He thus saluted; All ioy to the kindeInstinct of nature, in thee; Borne to beThe spirriter of Dances; companieFor feasts, and following Banquets; grac't and blestFor bearing light to all the interestClaim'd in this Instrument. From whence shall springPlay faire, and sweet; to which may Graces sing.A prettie painted cote, thou putt'st on here(O Tortois) while thy hill-bred vitall sphereConfines thy fashion; but (surpris'd by me,)I'le beare thee home; where thou shalt euer beA Profit to me; and yet nothing moreWill I contemne thee, in my merited store.Goods, with good parts got, worth and honour gaue:Left goods, and honors, euery foole may haue.And since thou first, shalt giue me meanes to liue,I'le loue thee euer. Virtuous qualities giueTo liue at home with them, enough content;Where those that want such inward ornaments,Fly out for outward; their life, made their lode;Tis best to be at home; Harme lurks abroad:And certainely, thy vertue shall be knowneGainst great-yll-causing incantation,To serue as for a Lance, Or Ammules.And where, in comfort of thy vitall heat,Thou now breathst but a sound confus'd, for song;Expos'd by nature; after death, more strongThou shalt in sounds of Art be; and commandSong infinite sweeter. Thus with either handHe tooke it up; and instantly tooke flightBack to his Caue, with that his home-delight.Where, (giuing to the Mountaine Tortois ventsOf life and motion) with fit InstrumentsForg'd of bright steele; be strait inform'd a Lute.Put neck, and frets to it; of which, a suteHe made of splitted quills; in equall spaceImpos'd vpon the neck; and did embraceBoth backe, and bosome. At whose height (as gymnsT'extend, and ease the strings) he put in pynns.Seuen strings, of seuerall tunes, he then applied;Made of the Entrailes of a sheepe well dried;And throughly twisted. Next he did prouideA Case for all; made of an Oxes Hyde;Out of his counsailes to preserue as well,As to create: and all this Action fellInto an instant consequence. His word,And worke, had indiuiduall accord.All being as swiftly to perfection brought;As any worldly mans, most rauisht thought,Whose minde, Care cuts, in an infinityOf varied parts, or passions instantly;Or as the frequent twincklings of an eye.And thus his House-delight giuen absolute end;He toucht it; and did euery string extend(With an exploratorie spirit assaid)To all the parts, that could on it be plaid.It sounded dreadfully; to which he sung,As if from thence, the first, and true force sprungThat fashions Virtue. God, in him did sing.His play was likewise and unspeakable thing,Yet, but as an extemporall Assay,Of what showe, it would make, being the first way,It tryed his hand; or a tumultuous noise,Such as at feasts, the first-flowr'd spirits of BoiesPoure out in mutuall contumelies still:As little squaring with his curious will;Or was as wanton, and untaught a Store.Of Ioue and Maia, that rich shooes still wore,He sung; who sufferd, ill reports before,And foule staines, vnder her faire titles bore.But Hermes sung, her Nation, and her NameDid itterate euer. All her high-flowne fameOf being Ioues Mistresse; celebrating allHer trains of seruants; and collaterallSumpture of Houses; all her Tripods there,And Caldrons huge; encreasing euery yeare.All which she knew; yet felt her knowledge stingWith her fames losse; which (found) she more wisht sung.But now; he, in his sacred cradle laidHis Lute so absolute; and strait conuaidHimselfe up to a watch-towre, forth his house;Rich, and diuinely OdoriferousA loftie wile, at worke in his conceipt;Thirsting the practise of his Empires height.And where Impostors rule; (since sable NightMust serue their deeds) he did his deeds their right:For now the neuer-resting Sunne, was turn'dFor th'vnder earth, and in the Ocean burn'dHis Coch, and Coursers. When th'ingenious spiePieria's shadie hill, had in his eye;Where the immortall Oxen of the GodsIn ayres flood solac't their select Abods;And earths sweet greene floure, that was neuer shorne;Fed euer downe; And those the wittie-borne(Argicides,) set servous spie upon:Seuering from all the rest; and setting goneFull fiftie of the violent Bellowers.Which driuing through the sands; he did reuerse(His births-craft strait remembring) all their houes;And them transpos'd, in opposite remoues;The fore, behinde set; The behinde, before;T'employ the eyes, of such as should explore.And he himselfe (as flye-pac't) cast awayHis sandalls, on the sea-sands. Past display;And unexcogitable thoughts, in ActPutting; to shunn, of his stolne steps, the Tract.Mixing, both Tamrisk; and like-Tamrisk sprayes,In a most rare confusion, to raiseHis footsteps up from earth. Of which sprayes, he(His armefull gathering, fresh from off the Tree,)Made for his sandalls, Tyes; both leaues, and tyesHolding together; and then fear'd no eyesThat could affect his feets discoueries.The Tamrisk boughs be gather'd, making wayBacke from Pieria: but as to conuaieProuision in them; for his iourney fit,It being long; and therefore needing it.An ould man, now at labour, nere the fieldOf greene Onchestus; knew the verdant yieldOf his fayre armefull; whom th'ingenious SonneOf Maia, therefore; salutationDid thus beginn to; Ho? ould man! That nowArt crokked growne, with making Plants to grow!Thy nerues will farr be spent; when these boughs shallTo these their leaues, confer me fruit, and All.But see not thou, what euer thou dost see;Nor heare, though heare; But all, is touching meConceale; since nought, it can endamage thee.This, and no more be said; and on draue stillHis brode-browd Oxen. Many a shadie Hill,And many an echoing valley; many a fieldPleasant, and wishfull, did his passage yieldTheir safe Transcension. But now, the diuineAnd black-browd Night (his Mistresse) did declineExceeding swiftly; Daies most earely lightFast hasting to her first point; to exciteWorldlings to worke; and in her Watch-towre, shone,King Pallas-Megamedes seed, (the Moone)When through th'Alphæan flood, Ioues powerfull SonnePhœbus-Apollo's ample-foreheaded Herd(Whose necks, the laboring yoke, had neuer spher'd)Draue swiftly on; and then into a stall(Hillie; yet past to, through an humble valeAnd hollow Dells, in a most louely Meade)He gatherd all; and them diuinely feddWith Odorous Cypresse; and the rauishing TreeThat makes his Eaters, lose the memorieOf name, and countrie. Then he brought, withall;Much wood; whose sight, unto his serch let fallThe Art of making fire. Which thus he tried:He tooke a branch of Lawrell, amplifiedPast others, both in beautie, and in sise;Yet, lay next hand; rubb'd it; and strait did riseA warme fume from it. Steele, being that did raise(As Agent) the attenuated BaiesTo that hot vapor. So that, Hermes foundBoth fire first; and of it, the seede, close boundIn other substances; and then, the seedHe multiplied; of sere-wood making feedThe apt heat of it; in a pile Combin'de,Laid in a lower Pit; that in flames strait shin'de;And cast a sparkling crack up to the Skye;All the drie parts, so feruent were, and hyeIn their combustion. And how long the forceOf glorious Vulcan, kept the fire in course;So long was he, in dragging from their stall,Two of the crook-hancht Herd: that ror'd withall;And rag'd for feare, t'approch the sacred fire:To which did all, his dreadfull powrs aspire.When (blustring forth their breath) He on the soule,Cast both, at length; though with a world of toile.For long he was, in getting them to groundAfter their through-thrust, and most mortall wound.But worke, to worke, he ioin'd; the flesh and cut,Couerd with fat; and (on treene broches put)In peeces rosted. But, in the'IntestinesThe black blood, and the honorarie chines,Together with the carcases, lay thereCast on the cold earth, as no Deities chere.The Hydes, vpon a rugged rock he spred;And thus were these now, all in peeces shred,And undistinguisht from Earths common herd:Though borne for long date; and to heauen endeard;And now must euer liue, in dead euent.But Hermes, herehence, hauing his content,Car'd for no more; but drew to places euen,The fat-works, that, of force, must haue for heauenTheir capitall ends; though stlone; and therefore wereIn twelue parts cut, for twelue choice Deities chere,By this deuotion. To all which, he gaueTheir seuerall honors; and did wish to haueHis equall part thereof; as free, and wellAs th'other Deities; but the fattie smellAfflicted him, though he immortall were;Play'ng mortall parts; and being, (like mortalls) here.Yet his proud minde, nothing the more obaydeFor being a God, himselfe; and his owne aideHauing to cause his due: And though in heartHee highly wisht it; but the weaker partSubdu'd the stronger; and went on, in ill.Euen heauenly Powre, had rather haue his Will,Then haue his Right; and will's the worst of All,When but in least sort, it is criminall;One Taint, being Author of a Number, still.And thus (resolu'd to leaue his hallow'd Hill)First, both the fat parts, and the fleshie, AllTaking away; at the steepe-entry'd stallHe laid all; All, the feet and heads entire;And all the sere-wood; making cleare with fire.And now, he leauing there then, all things doneAnd finisht, in their fit perfection;(The Coles put out; and their black Ashes throwneFrom all discouerie, by the louely lightThe cherefull Moone cast; shyning all the Night)He strait assum'd a nouell voices note;And in the whirle-pit-eating-flood, afloteHe set his sandalls. When now, once againeThe-that-morne-borne-Cyllenius, did attaineHis Homes diuine height; all the farr-stretcht waieNo one blest God, encountring, his assaie;Nor Mortall Man; nor any Dogg durst spendHis-borne-to-barke-mouth at him; till, in th'end,He reacht his Caue; and at the Gate went inCrooked, and wrapt into a fold so thin,That no eye could discouer his repayre;But as a darknesse, of th'Autumnall ayre.When going on; fore-right; he straie arriu'dAt his rich Phane: his soft feet quite depriu'dOf all least noise, of one that trod the earth;They trod so swift to reach his roome of Birth.Where, In his swath-hands, he his shoulders wrapt,And (like an Infant, newly hauing scap'tThe teeming streights) as in the Palms he layOf his lou'd Nurse. Yet instantly would play(Freeing his right hand) with his bearing clothAbout his knees wrapt; and strait (loosing bothHis right and left hand) with his left, he caughtHis most-lou'd Lute. His Mother yet, was taughtHis wanton wiles; nor could a Gods wit lieHis from a Goddesse; who did therefore tryeHis answer, thus: Why (thou made all of sleight)And whence ariu'st thou, in this rest of Night?Improuident Impudent; In my conceiptThou rather shouldst be getting forth thy Gate,With all flight fit, for thy engander'd State;(In merit of th'Ineuitable bands,To be impos'd by vext Latona's handsIustly incenst for her Apollo's harms)Thenly thus wrapt, as ready for her arms,To take thee vp, and kisse thee: Would to heauen,(In crosse of that high grace) Thou hadst beene giuenVp to Perdition; ere poore mortalls beareThose blacke banes, that thy father ThundererHath planted thee of purpose to confer,On them, and Deities. He return'd replie;As Master of the feates of Policie;Mother? why ayme you thus amisse at me?As if I were a Sonne that InfancieCould keepe from all the skill, that Age can teach?Or bad in cheating, but a childish reach?And of a Mothers mandats, fear'd the breach?I mount that Art at first; that will be bestWhen all times consummate their cunningest.Able to counsaile, Now my selfe, and thee,In all things best, to all Eternitie.We cannot liue like Gods here, without gifts;No, nor without corruption, and shifts.And much lesse, without eating; as we mustIn keeping thy rules, and in being Iust;Of which we cannot undergoe the lodes.Tis better here, to Imitate the Gods,And wine, or wench out all times Periods;To that end, growing rich in readie heapes;Stor'de with Reuennews; being in corne-fielde reapesOf infinite Acres; then to liue enclos'dIn Caues, to all Earths sweetest ayre expos'd.I, as much honor hold, as Phœbus does,And if my Father please not to disposePossessions to me; I my selfe will seeIf I can force them in, for I can bePrince of all Theeues. And if Latona's SonneMake after my stealth, Indignation;I'le haue a Scape, as well as he a Serch,And ouertake him with a greater lurch.For I can post to Pythos; and breake through,His huge house, there; where harbors wealth enough;Most precious Tripods; Caldrons; Steele, and Gold;Garments rich wrought; and full of liberall fold:All which will I, at pleasure owne; and thowShalt see all; wilt thou but thy sight bestow.Thus chang'd great words; the Gote-byde-wearers Sonne,And Maia, of Maiestique fashion.And now the Ayre-begot Aurora roseFrom out the Ocean-great-in-ebbs-and flows;When, at the neuer-shorne, pure-and-faire Groue,(Onchestus) consecrated to the loueOf round and long-neckt Neptune; Phœbus foundA man whom heauie yeares, had prest halfe round;And yet at worke, in plashing of a FenceAbout a Vineyeard; that had residenceHard by the high-way; whom Latona's Sonne,Made it not strange, but first did question,And first saluted: Ho? you? Aged syreThat here are hewing from the Vine, the Bryre;For certaine Oxen, I come here t'enquireOut of Pieria; femalls All; and rer'dAll, with hornes wreath'd, unlike the common Herde;A Cole-black Bull, fed by them all alone;And all obseru'd for preseruationThrough all their foodie, and delicious Fen;With foure fierce Mastifs, like one-minded men.These left their Doggs, and Bull; (which I admire)And when was nere set, Daies eternall fire;From their fierce Guardians; from their delicate fare,Made clere departure. To me then declare;(O ould man, long since borne) If thy graue raieHath any man seene, making stealthfull waieWith all those Oxen! Th'olde man made replie;Tis hard (O friend) to render readily,Account of all, that may inuade mine eye;For many a Trauailer, this high-way tredds;Some in much ills serch; some, in noble threddsLeading their liues out; but I, this young DayEuen from her first point, haue made good display,Of all men, passing this abundant hill,Planted with Vines; and no such stealthfull ill,Her light hath showne me: But last Euening late,I sawe a Thing, that shew'd of childish state;To my ould lights; and seem'd as he pursudeA Herd of Oxen, with braue Heads indude;Yet but an Infant; and retainde a Rodd;Who warilie, both this, and that way trodd,His head still backwards turn'd. This th'ould Man spake;Which he well thought vpon; and swiftly brakeInto his Pursuit, with abundant wing;That strooke but one plaine; ere he knew the thingThat was the Theefe; to be th'Impostor borne;Whom Ioue yet, with his Sonnes name did adorne.In studie, and with Ardor, then the King(Ioues dazeling Sonne) plac't his exploring wingOn sacred Pylos, for his forced Heard;His ample shoulders, in a cloud ensphear'dOn fierie chrimsine. Strait, the steps he foundOf his stolne Head: And said; Strange sights confoundMy apprehensiue powers: for here I seeThe Tracts of Oxen; but auersiuelieConuerted towards the Pierian Hills,As tredding to their Meade of Daffodills:But, nor mine eye, Mens feet, nor Womens drawes;Nor hoarie Wolues; nor Beares; nor Lyons Paws,Nor thick-necks Bulls they show. But hee that does,These monstrous Deeds, with neuer so swift shooes;Hath past from that howre hither; but from hence,His foule course, may meete, fouler consequence.With this, tooke Phœbus wing; and Hermes still,(For all his Threats) secure lay in his HillWall'd with a woodd; and more, a Rock, besideWhere a Retreat rann, deepely multiplideIn blinding shadows; and where th'endlesse Bride;Bore to Saturnius, his Ingenious Sonne:An Odor, worth a Hearts desire, being throwne,Along the Heauen-sweet Hill; on whose Herb, fedd,Rich flocks of sheepe, that bow not where they treddTheir horney Pasterns. There, the light of Men,(Ioues Sonne Apollo) strait descended then,The Marble Pauement, in that gloomie Den.On whom, when Ioue, and Maia's Sonne set eye,Wroth for his Oxen: On then, instantlyHis Odorous swarth-hands, flew; in which, as closeTh'Impostor lay; As in the coole reposeOf cast-on Ashes, Harths of burning ColesLy in the woods hidd, vnder the ControulesOf skilfull Colyers: Euen so close did lieInscrutable Hermes in Apollo's eye.Contracting his great God-head, to a smallAnd Infant likenesse; feet, hands, head and All.And as a Hunter hath beene often viewd,From Chace retir'd with both his hands embrewdIn his Games blood; that doth for water callTo clense his hands; And to prouoke withallDelightsome sleepe; new washt and laid to rest;So now lay Hermes in the close comprestChace of his Oxen. His New-found-out Lute;Beneath his arme held: As if no pursuiteBut that Prise, and the virtue of his play,His heart affect. But to Phœbus, lay,His close Heart, open: And he, likewise, knewThe braue Hyll-Hymph there; and her deare Sonne, new-Borne; and as well wrapt, in his wiles, as weed's.All the close shroud's too, for his Rapinous deedes,In All the Caue, he knew: and with his keyHe open'd three of them; In which there laySiluer, and Gold-heapes; Nectar infinite store;And Deare Ambrosia; and of weedes she wore,(Pure white, and Purple) A rich Wardrobe shin'de;Fir for the blest States, of powrs so diuin'de.All which discouerd; Thus to MercurieHe offerd Conference: Infant? you that lieWrapt so in swath-bands; Instantly unfoldIn what conceald Retreats of yours you holdMy Oxen stolne by you; Or strait we shallIarr, as beseemes not, powrs Celestiall.For I will take, and hurle Thee to the DeepesOf dismall Tartarus; where ill Death keepesHis gloomie, and inextricable fates;And to no Eye, that light Illuminates,Mother, nor Father, shall returne thee free,But vnder Earth, shall Sorrow fetter thee,And few repute thee, their Superiour.On him replied, Crafts subtlest Counsailor;What cruell speech, hath past Latona's Care!Seekes he his stolne-wilde-Cows, where Deities are?I haue nor seene, nor heard; nor can report;From others mouthes, one word of their resortTo any stranger. Nor will I, to gaineA base Reward, a false Relation faine.Nor would I; Could I tell. Resemble IAn Ox-Theefe? Or a Man? EspeciallieA man of such a courage; such a forceAs to that labour goes? That violent course?Nor Infants worke is That. My powres aspireTo sleepe, and quenching of my huners fireWith Mothers Milke; and gainst cold shades, to armeWith Cradle-cloths, my shoulders; and Baths warme;That no man may conceiue, the warr you threatCan spring, in cause, from my so peacefull heat.And euen amongst th'Immortalls it would beareEuent of absolute Miracle, to heareA new-borne Infants forces should transcendThe limits of his Dores; much lesse contendWith untam'd Oxen. This speech nothing seemesTo sauour the Decorum of the BeamesCast round about the Ayre Apollo breakes,Where his diuine minde, her intention speakes.I brake but yesterday, the blessed wombe;My feet are tender, and the common TombeOf men, (the Earth) lies sharpe beneath their tred.But, (if you please) euen by my Fathers headI'le take the great Oath; That nor I protestMy selfe, to Author on your InterestAny such usurpation; Nor haue ISeene any other, that felloniouslyHath forc't your Oxen. Strange thing! what are thoseOxen of yours? Or what are Oxen? knewsMy rude minde, thinke you? My eares onely touchAt their renowne; and heare that there are such.This speech he past; and euer as he spakeBeames from the hayre, about his eye-lidds brake;His eye-brows, vp, and downe cast; and his eyeEuery way look't, askans, and careleslie.And he, into a loftie whistling fell;As if he idle thought, Apollo's spell.Apollo (gently smiling) made Replie;O thou Impostor! whose thoughts euer lyeIn labour with Deceipt! For certaine, IRetaine Opinon; that thou, (euen thus soone)Hast ransackt, many a House; and not in oneNights-worke alone; nor in one Countries neitherHast beene beseeging, House and Man togehter;Rigging, and rifeling all waies; and no NoiseMade with thy soft feete, where it all destroies.Soft therefore, well; and tender thou maist callThe feet that thy stealths, goe, and fly withall.For many a field-bredd Herdsman, (unheard still)Hast thou made drowne, the Cauerns of the HillWhere his Retreates lie, with his helplesse teares;When any flesh-stealth thy desire end cares;And thou encountrest, either flocks of sheepeOr Herds of Oxen! vp then! doe not sleepeThy last Nap, in thy Cradle; but come downe;(Companion of black Night) and for this CrowneOf thy young Rapines; beare (from all) the stateAnd stile of Prince Theefe, into endlesse Date.This said; he tooke the Infant in his Armes;And with him, the remembrance of his harmes;This Præsage utt'ring; lifting him aloft;Be euer more, the miserablie-softSlaue of the bellie; Pursuiuant of allAnd Author, of all mischiefs Capitall.He scorn'd his Prophesie so; he Nees'd in's faceMost forciblie (which hearing) his embraceHe loth'd; and hurl'd him gainst the ground; yet stillTooke seate before him; though, (with all the illHe bore by him) he would haue left full faineThat Hewer of his heart, so into twaine.Yet salu'd all thus; Come! (you so swadl'd thing;Issue of Maia, and the Thunders King;Be confident; I shall hereafter findeMy brode-browd Oxen. My Prophetique mindeSo farr from blaimg this thy course; that I,Foresee thee, (in it,) to PosteritieThe guide of All Men, (All waies,) to their ends.This spoken; Hermes, from the Earth Ascends;Starting Aloft; and as in Studie went;Wrapping himselfe, in his Integument;And thus askt Phœbus; Whither force you Me(Farr-shot; and farr most powrefull Deitie.)I know (for all your fayning) y'are still wroth,About your Oxen; and suspect my Troth.O Iupiter: I wish the generall RaceOf all Earths Oxen, rooted from her face.I steale your Oxen? I againe, professeThat neither, I, haue stolne them; nor can ghesseWho else should steale them. What strange Beasts are theseYour so-lou'd Oxen? I must say (to pleaseYour humor thus farr) that euen My few HoowresHaue heard their fame. But be the sentence yoursOf the Debate betwixt us; Or to Ioue(For more indifferencie) the Cause remoue.Thus when the Solitude-affecting God,And the Latonian seede, had laid abroad;All things betwixt them; (though not yet agreed;Yet, might I speake) Apollo did proceedeNothing uniustly, to charge MercurieWith stealing of the Cows, he does denie.But his Profession was, with filed speach,And Crafts faire Complements, to ouerreachAll; And euen Phœbus. Who because he knewHis Trade of subtletie; He still at viewHunted his Foe, through all the sandie waieUp to Olympus. Nor would let him straieFrom out his sight; but kept behinde him still.And now they reacht, the Odoriferous HillOf high Olympus, to their Father Ioue,To Arbitrate the Cause, in which they stroue.Where, before both; Talents of iustice werePropos'd for him, whom Ioue should sentence Clere,In cause of their contention. And nowAbout Olympus, (euer-crown'de with snow)The rumor of their controuersie flew.All the Incorruptible, to their view,On heauens steepe Mountaine, made return'd repaire.Hermes and He, that light hurls through the ayre;Before the Thunderers knees stood: who begunn,To question thus farr, his Illustrious Sonne:Phœbus: To what end bringst thou Captiue hereHim in whom my Minde, putts delights so deare?This New-borne Infant? that the place suppliesOf Herrald yet, to all the Deities?This serious busines, you may witnesse, drawesThe Deities whole Court, to discusse the cause.Phœbus replied: And not vnworthie isThe cause, of all the Court of Deities.For you shall heare, it comprehends the weightOf Deuastation; and the verie heightOf spoile, and rapine, euen of Deities rights.Yet you (as if my selfe lou'd such delights)Vse words that wound my heart. I bring you hereAn Infant, that, euen now, admits no PereIn rapes and robb'ries. Finding out, his Place,(After my measure of an infinite space)In the Cyllenian Mountaine. Such a oneIn all the Art of opprobration,As not in all the Deities, I haue seene;Nor in th'Obliuion-marckt-whole Race of men.In Night, he draue my Oxen from their Leas;Along the loftie rore-resounding Seas:From out the Rode-way quite: the steps of themSo quite transpos'd, as would amaze the beameOf any mindes eye: being so infinite muchInuolu'd in doubt; as showd a Deified touchWent to the works performance. All the wayThrough which, my corss-hou'd Cows hee did conuaie,Had dust so darklie-hard to serch; and HeSo past all measure, wrapt in subtiltie.For, nor with feet, nor hands, he form'd his steps,In passing through the drie waies sandie heap's:But vs'd another counsaile to keepe hiddHis monstrous Tracts; that showd as one had slidOn Oke, or other Boughs; That swept out stillThe footsteps of his Oxen; and did fillTheir prints up euer; to the Daffodill(Or daintie feeding Meddow) as they trodd,Driuen by this cautelous, and Infant God.A Mortall Man yet, saw him driuing onHis Prey to Pylos. Which when he had doneAnd got his Passe sign'd, with a sacred fireIn peace; and freely (though to his desireNot to the Gods, he offerd part of theseMy rauisht Oxen) he retires, and liesLike to the gloomie Night in his dimm Denn,All hid in darknesse; and in clouts againe,Wrapt him so closely; that the sharpe-seene eyeOf your owne Eagle, could not see him lye.For with his hands, the ayre he rarified(This way, and that mou'd) till bright gleames did glideAbout his Being; that if any eyeShould dare the Darknesse; Light appos'd so nieMight blinde it quite, with her Antipathie.Which wile he woue, in curious care t'illudeThe'Extreame of any eye, that could intrude.On which relying, he outrageouslie(When I accus'd him) trebled his replie;I did not see; I did not heare; nor IWill tell at all; that any other stoleYour brode-browd Beeues. Which an Impostors souleWould soone haue done; and any Author faineOf purpose onely, a Reward to gaine.And thus he colourd truth, in euery lie.This saud; Apollo sate; and Mercurie,The Gods Commander, pleas'd with this replie.Father! I'le tell the truth; (for I am trueAnd farr from Art to lie.) He did pursueEuen to my Caue, his Oxen: this selfe daie;The Sunn, new raising his illustrious raie.But brought with him, none of the Bliss-indu'd,Nor any ocular witnesse, to conclude,His bare assertion. But his owne commandLaid on with strong, and necessarie hand,To showe his Oxen. Using Threats to castMy poore, and Infant powrs, into the VastOf ghastlie Tartarus; because he bearesOf strength-sustayning youth, the flaming yeares.And I, but yesterday produc't to lightBy which, it fell into his owne fre sightThat I, in no similitude apper'dOf powre to be the forcer of a Herde.And credite me (O Father, since the GraceOf that name, in your stile, you please to place)I draue not home his Oxen, no nor preastPast mine owne threshold; for tis manifest,I reuerence, with my soule, the Sunn; and allThe knowing dwellers, in this heauenly Hall.Loue you; obserue the least: and tis most cleareIn your owne knowledge, that my Merits beareNo least guilt of his blame. To all which, I,Dare adde, heauens great oath, boldly swearing byAll these so well-built Entries of the Blest.And therefore when I saw my selfe so prestWith his reproches; I confesse I burn'dIn my pure gall; and harsh replie return'd.Adde your aid to your Yonger then; and freeThe scruple fixt in Phœbus Ielousie.This said; he winckt upon his Mire; and stillHis swath-hands, held beneath his arme; no WillDiscernd in him, to hide, but haue them showne.Ioue laught aloud at his Ingenious Sonne,Quitting himselfe with Art, so likely wrought,As showd in his heart, not a rapinous thought.Commanding Both, to beare attoned mindesAnd seeke out th'Oxen; In which serch he bindesHermes to play the Guide; and show the Sunn(All grudge exilde) the Shrowd to which he wunnHis fayre-eyd Oxen. Then; his forehead bow'dFor signe it must be so; and Hermes show'dHis free obedience. So soone, he enclin'dTo his perswasion, and command, his minde.Now then, Ioues Iarring Sonnes, no longer stood;But sandie Pylos, and th'Alphæan floodReacht instantly; and made as quick a fallOn those rich-feeding fields, and loftie stallWhere Phœbus Oxen, Hermes safelie kept;Driuen in, by night. When sodainely he steptUp to the stonie Caue; and into lightDraue forth the Oxen Phœbus at first sightKnew them the same: and saw apart dispreadVpon a high-rais'd rock; the hydes new fleadOf th'Oxen sacrifis'd. Then Phœus said;O thou in craftie counsailes vndisplaid!How couldst thou cut the throtes, and cast to EarthTwo such huge Oxen? being so young a birth,And a mere Infant? I admire thy forceAnd will, behinde thy back. But this swift courseOf growing into strength, thou hadst not needContinue any long Date, O thou seedOf honor'd Maia! Hermes, (to shew howHe did those Deedes) did forthwith cut and bowStrong Osiers in soft folds; and strappl'd straitOne of his hugest Oxen: all his weightLay'ng prostrate on the earth, at Phœbus feet:All his foure clouen houes, easly made to greeteEach other upwards; all, together brought.In all which bands yet, all the Beasts powres wroughtTo rise, and stand; when all the Herd aboutThe mighty Hermes, rusht in, to help outTheir fellow from his fetters; Phœbus viewOf al this, vp to Admiration drewEuen his high forces: And sterne lookes he threwAt Hermes for his Herds wrong; and the placeTo which he had retir'd them; being in graceAnd fruitfull riches of it, so entire:All which, set all his force, on enuious fire.All whose heat, flew out of his eyes in flames:Which faine he would haue hidd, to bide the shamesOf his ill gouern'd passions. But with easeHermes could calme them; and his humors pleaseStill at his pleasure; where he ne're so greatIn force, and fortitude; and high in heat.In all which, he his Lute tooke; and assaidA Song upon him; and so strangely plaid;That from his hand, a rauishing horror flew.Which Phœbus, into laughter turn'd; and grewPleasant past measure; Tunes so artfull clereStrooke euen his heart-strings; & his minde, made beare.His Lute so powerfull was, in forcing loue;(As his hand rul'd it) that from him it droueAll feare of Phœbus; yet he haue him stillThe upper hand; and (to aduance his skill)To utmost Miracle; he plaid sometimes,Single awhile; In which, when all they ClymesOf rapture he had reacht; (to make the SunnAdmire enough) O then, his voice would runnSuch points vpon his play; and did so moue,They tooke Apollo Prisoner to his loue.And now the deathlesse Gods, and deathfull EarthHe sung; beginning, at their eithers Birth,To full extent of all their Emperie.And, first; the honor to Mnemosyne(The Muses Mother) of all Goddesse statesHe gaue; euen forc't too't, by the equall fates.And then (as it did in Prioritie fallOf Age, and Birth) He celebrated All.And with such Elegance, and Order sung;(His Lute still toucht, to stick more off his tongue)That Phœbus heart, with infinite loue, he eate.Who therefore thus, did his Deserts entreate:Master of Sacrifice! chiefe soule of feast?Patient of all paines? Artizan so blest;That all things thou canst doe, in any One.Worth fiftie Oxen is th'InuentionOf this one Lute. We both, shall now; I hope;In firme peace, worke, to all our wishes scape.Informe me, (thou that euery way canst winde,And turne to Act, all wishes of thy minde)Together with thy birth, came all thy skill?Or did some God, or God-like man instillThis heauenly song to thee? Me thinks I heareA new voice; such as neuer yet came nereThe brest of any; either Man, or God,Till in thee, it had Prime, and Period.What Art? what Muse? that medcine can produceFor cares most curelesse? what inueterate use;Or practise of a virtue so profuse,(Which three, doe all the contribution keepsThat Ioy, or Loue conferrs, or pleasing Sleepe)Taught thee the soueraigne facture of them all?I, of the Muses, am the capitallConsort, or followers: (and to these belongThe grace of dance; all worthie waies of song;and euer-florishing verse: the delicate SetAnd sound of Instruments.) But neuer yetDid anything so much affect my mindeWith ioy, and care to compasse; as this kindeOf Song and Play: that for the spritely feastOf florishing assemblies, are the bestAnd ablest works, that euer Worth gaue Act.My powres with admiration stand distract,To heare, with what a hand to make in loue,Thou ruest thy Lute. And (though thy yongst bowres moue,)At full art, in ould counsailes. Here I vow(Euen by this Cornell Dart, I use to throw)To thee, and to thy Mother; He make theeAmongst the Gods, of glorious degree.Guide of Mens waies, and Theirs. And will impartTo thee, the mightie Imperatorie Art:Bestowe rich gifts on thee; and in the endNeuer deceuive thee. Hermes (as a friendThat wrought on all aduantage; and made gaineHis Capitall obiect) that did entertainePhœbus Apollo: Doe thy Dignities(Farr-working God; and circularlie wise)Demand my vertues? without enuie IWill teach thee to ascend my facultie.And this Day thou shalt reach it; finding me,In Acts and Counsailes, all waies kinde to thee;As one that all things knows; And first tak'st seatAmongst th'Immortalls; being good, and great.And therefore to Ioues loue, mak'st free accesse,Euen out of his accomplisht Holinesse.Great gifts, he likewise giues thee; who (fame saies)Hast wunn thy greatnesse, by his will: his waies.By him know'st all the powers Propheticall(O thou farr-worker) and the fates of all.Yea; and I know thee rich; yet apt to learne:And euen thy Wish, dost but discerne, and earne.And since thy soule, so burns to know the wayTo play and sing as I doe: sing, and play.Play; and perfection in thy play employ;And be thy care, to learne things good; thy Joy.Take thou my Lute (My Loue) and giue thou me,The glorie of so great a facultie.This sweet-tun'd consort; held but in thy hand;Sing; and perfection in thy song command.For thou, alreadie, hast the way to speakeFayrely, and elegantly; and to breakeAll eloquence into thy utterd minde.One gift from heauen found, may another finde.Use then, securely, this thy gift; and goeTo feasts, and dances, that enamour so;And to that couetous sport of getting flory,That Day, nor Night, will suffer to be sory.Whoeuer, does but say, in verse; sings still:Which he that can; of any other skillIs capable; so he be taught by Art,And wisedome; and can speake, at euery partThings pleasing to an understanding Minde:And such a one, that seekes this Lute, shall finde.Him still it teaches easely, though he plaiesSoft voluntaries onely; and assaiesAs wanton, as the sports of children are.And (euen when he aspires to singularIn all the Mast'ries he shall play or sing)Findes the whole worke, but an vnhappie thing:He (I say) sure; shall of this Lute be King.But he; whoeuer, rudely sets upon,Of this Lutes skill, th'Inquest, or Question;Neuer so ardently, and angrilie;Without the aptnesse, and habilitieOf Art; and Nature sitting: neuer shallAspire to this; but vtter triuiallAnd idle accents; though sure ne're so lowd,And neuer so commended of the Crowde.But thee I know (O Eminent Sonne of Ioue)The fiery Learner, of what euer LoueHath sharpn'd thy affections to achiue.And thee, I giue this Lute; let us now liueFeeding vpon the Hill-and-horse-fed EarthOur neuer-handled Oxen: whose deare Birth(Their femalls fellowd with their Males) let floweIn store enough hereafter; nor must you(How-euer-cunning hearted your wits are)Boile in your Gall, a Grudge too circulare.Thus gaue he him his Lute; which he embrac't;And gaue againe, a Gode, whose bright head castBeames like the light forth; leauing to his careHis Oxens keeping. Which, with ioy full fare,He tooke on him. The Lute Apollo tookeInto his left hand; and aloft he shookeDelightsome sounds up; to which God did sing.Then were the Oxen, to their endlesse SpringTurn'd; and Ioues Two illustrious Off-springs flewVp to Olympus, where it euer snew;Delighted with their Lutes sound all the way.Whom Ioue, much ioi'd to see; and endlesse stayGaue to their knot of friendship. From which date,Hermes gaue Phœbus, an eternall stateIn his affection: whose sure pledge and signeHis Lute was; and the Doctrine so diuine,Jointly conferd on him. Which well might beTrue Symbole of his Loues simplicitie.On th'other part; Apollo, in his friendForm'd th'Art of Wisedome; to the binding endOf his vow'd friendship; and (for further meede)Gaue him the farr-heard fistularie Reede.For all these forms of friendship, Phœbus yetFeard that both forme, and substance were not mettIn Mercurie's intentions: and, in plaine,Said, (since he saw him, borne to craft and gaine;And that Ioues will had him the honor done,To change at his will, the possessionOf others Gods) he fear'd his breach of of vowes,In stealing both his Lute, and comming Bowes.And therefore wisht, that what the Gods affect,Himselfe would witnesse; and to his requestHis head Bow; swearing by th'Impetuous floodOf Styx; that of his whole possessions, not a GoodHe would diminish; but therein maintaineThe full content, in which his Minde did raigne.And then did Maia's Sonne, his fore-head bow:Making, by all that he desir'd, his vow:Neuer to pray more vpon any Thing,In iust possession of the farr-shot King;Nor euer to come neare, a House of his.Latonian Phœbus, bowd his Brow to this,With his like promise; say'ng, Not any OneOf all the Gods, nor any Man, that, SonneIs to Saturnius; is more deare to me;More trusted, nor mor honord, is then thee.Which, yet, with greater Gifts of Deitie,In future I'le confirme; and giue thy stateA Rodd that riches shall accumulate;Not leaue the bearer, thrall to Death, or fateOr any sicknesse. All of Gods it is;Three-leau'd; and full of all felicities.And this shall be thy Guardian; this shall giueThe Gods to thee, in all the truth they liue.And finally, shall this the Tutresse beOf all the words, and workes, informing meFrom Ioues high counsailes; making knowne to theeAll my instructions. But to Prophesie(O best of Ioues belou'd) and that high skill;Which to obtaine, lies burning in thy will;Nor thee, nor any God, will Fate let learne.Onely Ioues minde, hath insight to discerneWhat that importeth; yet am I allowd(My knowne faith trusted; and my forhead bowd;Our great Oath taken, to resolue to noneOf all th'Immortalls, the restrictionOf that deepe knowledge) of it All, the Minde.Since then it sits, in such fast bounds confinde,(O Brother) when the Golden rodd is heldIn thy strong hand; seeke not to haue reueal'dAny sure fate, that Ioue will haue conceald.For no man shall, by know'ng, preuent his fate;And therefore will I hold, in my free stateThe powre, to hurt and helpe, what man I will,Of all the greatest; or least toucht with ill;That walke within the Circle of mine eye;In all the Tribes, and Sexes, it shall trye.Yet, truely, any man shall haue his willTo reape the fruites of my Prophetique skill;Whoeuer seekes it, by the voice, or wingOf Birds, borne truely, such euents to sing.Nor will I falsly, nor with fallaciesInfringe the truth, on which his faith relies;But he that Truths, in chattering plumes would finde;(Quite opposite to them, that prompt my Minde,)And learne by naturall forgers of vaine lyes,The more-then-euer-certaine Deities;That man shall Sea-waies tred, that leaue no Tracts;And false, or no guide finde, for all his facts.And yet will I, his Gifts accept as wellAs his; to whom, the simple truth I tell.One other thing to thee, I'le yet make knowne(Maia's exceedingly renowned sonneAnd Ioues; and of the Gods whole sessionThe most ingenious Genius.) There dwellWithin a Crooked Crannie, in a DellBeneath Parnassus; certaine sisters borne,Call'd Parcæ; whom extreame swift wings adorne;Their Number three; that haue upon their headsWhite Barly floure still sprinckled; and are maids,And these are schoole-Mistresses of things to come,Without the gift of Prophecie: of whom(Being but a boy, and keeping Oxen, nere)I learn'd their skill; though my great Father wereCareles of it, or them. These flying from home,To others roofes; and fedd with Hony-come,Command all skill; and (being enraged then)Will freely tell the Truths of things to Men.But if they giue them not, that Gods sweete meat;They then are apt, to vtter their deceit,And leade Men from their way. And these will IGiue thee hereafter; when their scrutinieAnd truth; thou hast both made, and learn'd, and then;Please thy selfe with them; and the Race of men(Wilt thou know any) with thy skill endeare:Who will, (be sure) afford it greedie eare;And heare it often, it if proue sincere.Take these (O Maia's Sonne) and in thy care,Be Horse, and Oxen: all such Men as arePatient of labour; Lyons; white-tooth'd Bores;Mastifs, and flocks, that feede the flowrie shores;And euery foure-foot Beast: all which shall standIn awe of thy high Imperatory hand.Be thou to Dis too, sole Ambassador;Who (though all gifts, and bounties he abhor)On thee he will bestowe, a wealthie One.Thus King Apollo, honor'd Maia's Sonne,With all the rights of friendship: all whose loueHad Imposition, from the Will of Ioue.And thus, with Gods and Mortalls Hermes liu'd;Who truely helpt but few; but all deceiu'dWith an undifferencing respect; and madeUsine words, and false perswasions his Trade.His Deeds, were all associats of the Night;In which, his close wrongs, car'd for no mans Right.So all salutes to Hermes, that are due;Of whom, and all Gods, shall my Muse sing true.
ermes, the Sonne of Ioue and Maia, sing,(O Muse) th'Arcadian, & Ollenian King:They rich in flocks; he heauen enriching still,In Messages, return'd with all his will.Whom glorious Maia (The Nimph rich in haire)Mixing with Ioue, in amorous affaire;Brought forth to him: sustaining a retreatFrom all th'Immortalls of the blessed seat;And liuing in the same darke Caue; where IoueInform'd, at mid-night, the effect of loue,Vnknowne to either man or Deitie:Sweet sleepe once, hauing seas'd the ielous eyeOf Iuno, deckt with wrists of iuorie.But when great Ioues high minde was consummate,The tenth moneth had in heauen confin'de the dateOf Maias Labour; And into the sightShe brought, in one birth, Labours infinite. For then she bore a sonne, that all tried waiesCould turne, and winde, to wisht euents, assaies.A faire tongu'd, but false-hearted Counsellor.Rector of Ox-stealers; and for all stealths, boreA varied singer. Speeder of Nights spiesAnd guide of all her dreames obscurities.Guard of dore-Guardians: and was borne to beAmongst th'Immortalls, that wing'd Deitie,That in an instant, should doe acts would askeThe Powres of others, and Eternall Taske.Borne, in the Morne; He form'd his Lute at Noone;At Night stole all the Oxen of the Sunne;And all this in his Births first day was done;Which was the fourth of the encreasing Moone.Because Celestiall lims, sustain'd his straines;His sacred swath-hands, must not be his chaines.So (starting up) to Phœbus Herde he stept;Found strait, the high-roof't Caue where they were kept,And (th'entrie passing) he th'inuention found,Of making Lutes; and did in wealth aboundBy that Inuention; Since He first of all,Was author of that Engine Musicall.By this meane, mou'd to the ingenious worke:Nere the Caues inmost ouerture, did lurkeA Tortois, tasting th'odoriferous grasse;Leisurely mouing; and this Obiect wasThe motiue to Ioues Sonne (who could conuertTo profitablest uses, all desert That nature had in any worke conuaid)To forme the Lute: when (smiling) thus he said;Thou mou'st in me, a note of excellent vse;Which thy ill forme, shall neuer so seduceT'euert the good, to be inform'd by it,In pliant force, of my forme-forging wit. Then the slowe Tortois, wrought on by his minde,He thus saluted; All ioy to the kindeInstinct of nature, in thee; Borne to beThe spirriter of Dances; companieFor feasts, and following Banquets; grac't and blestFor bearing light to all the interestClaim'd in this Instrument. From whence shall springPlay faire, and sweet; to which may Graces sing.A prettie painted cote, thou putt'st on here(O Tortois) while thy hill-bred vitall sphereConfines thy fashion; but (surpris'd by me,)I'le beare thee home; where thou shalt euer beA Profit to me; and yet nothing moreWill I contemne thee, in my merited store.Goods, with good parts got, worth and honour gaue:Left goods, and honors, euery foole may haue.And since thou first, shalt giue me meanes to liue,I'le loue thee euer. Virtuous qualities giueTo liue at home with them, enough content;Where those that want such inward ornaments,Fly out for outward; their life, made their lode;Tis best to be at home; Harme lurks abroad: And certainely, thy vertue shall be knowneGainst great-yll-causing incantation,To serue as for a Lance, Or Ammules.And where, in comfort of thy vitall heat,Thou now breathst but a sound confus'd, for song;Expos'd by nature; after death, more strongThou shalt in sounds of Art be; and commandSong infinite sweeter. Thus with either handHe tooke it up; and instantly tooke flightBack to his Caue, with that his home-delight.Where, (giuing to the Mountaine Tortois ventsOf life and motion) with fit InstrumentsForg'd of bright steele; be strait inform'd a Lute.Put neck, and frets to it; of which, a suteHe made of splitted quills; in equall spaceImpos'd vpon the neck; and did embraceBoth backe, and bosome. At whose height (as gymnsT'extend, and ease the strings) he put in pynns.Seuen strings, of seuerall tunes, he then applied;Made of the Entrailes of a sheepe well dried;And throughly twisted. Next he did prouideA Case for all; made of an Oxes Hyde;Out of his counsailes to preserue as well,As to create: and all this Action fellInto an instant consequence. His word,And worke, had indiuiduall accord.All being as swiftly to perfection brought;As any worldly mans, most rauisht thought, Whose minde, Care cuts, in an infinityOf varied parts, or passions instantly;Or as the frequent twincklings of an eye. And thus his House-delight giuen absolute end;He toucht it; and did euery string extend(With an exploratorie spirit assaid)To all the parts, that could on it be plaid.It sounded dreadfully; to which he sung,As if from thence, the first, and true force sprungThat fashions Virtue. God, in him did sing.His play was likewise and unspeakable thing,Yet, but as an extemporall Assay,Of what showe, it would make, being the first way,It tryed his hand; or a tumultuous noise,Such as at feasts, the first-flowr'd spirits of BoiesPoure out in mutuall contumelies still:As little squaring with his curious will;Or was as wanton, and untaught a Store. Of Ioue and Maia, that rich shooes still wore,He sung; who sufferd, ill reports before,And foule staines, vnder her faire titles bore.But Hermes sung, her Nation, and her NameDid itterate euer. All her high-flowne fameOf being Ioues Mistresse; celebrating allHer trains of seruants; and collaterallSumpture of Houses; all her Tripods there,And Caldrons huge; encreasing euery yeare.All which she knew; yet felt her knowledge sting With her fames losse; which (found) she more wisht sung.But now; he, in his sacred cradle laidHis Lute so absolute; and strait conuaidHimselfe up to a watch-towre, forth his house;Rich, and diuinely OdoriferousA loftie wile, at worke in his conceipt;Thirsting the practise of his Empires height.And where Impostors rule; (since sable NightMust serue their deeds) he did his deeds their right:For now the neuer-resting Sunne, was turn'dFor th'vnder earth, and in the Ocean burn'dHis Coch, and Coursers. When th'ingenious spiePieria's shadie hill, had in his eye;Where the immortall Oxen of the GodsIn ayres flood solac't their select Abods;And earths sweet greene floure, that was neuer shorne;Fed euer downe; And those the wittie-borne(Argicides,) set servous spie upon:Seuering from all the rest; and setting goneFull fiftie of the violent Bellowers.Which driuing through the sands; he did reuerse(His births-craft strait remembring) all their houes;And them transpos'd, in opposite remoues;The fore, behinde set; The behinde, before;T'employ the eyes, of such as should explore.And he himselfe (as flye-pac't) cast awayHis sandalls, on the sea-sands. Past display;And unexcogitable thoughts, in Act Putting; to shunn, of his stolne steps, the Tract.Mixing, both Tamrisk; and like-Tamrisk sprayes,In a most rare confusion, to raiseHis footsteps up from earth. Of which sprayes, he(His armefull gathering, fresh from off the Tree,)Made for his sandalls, Tyes; both leaues, and tyesHolding together; and then fear'd no eyesThat could affect his feets discoueries. The Tamrisk boughs be gather'd, making wayBacke from Pieria: but as to conuaieProuision in them; for his iourney fit,It being long; and therefore needing it. An ould man, now at labour, nere the fieldOf greene Onchestus; knew the verdant yieldOf his fayre armefull; whom th'ingenious SonneOf Maia, therefore; salutationDid thus beginn to; Ho? ould man! That nowArt crokked growne, with making Plants to grow!Thy nerues will farr be spent; when these boughs shallTo these their leaues, confer me fruit, and All.But see not thou, what euer thou dost see;Nor heare, though heare; But all, is touching meConceale; since nought, it can endamage thee. This, and no more be said; and on draue stillHis brode-browd Oxen. Many a shadie Hill,And many an echoing valley; many a fieldPleasant, and wishfull, did his passage yieldTheir safe Transcension. But now, the diuine And black-browd Night (his Mistresse) did declineExceeding swiftly; Daies most earely lightFast hasting to her first point; to exciteWorldlings to worke; and in her Watch-towre, shone,King Pallas-Megamedes seed, (the Moone)When through th'Alphæan flood, Ioues powerfull SonnePhœbus-Apollo's ample-foreheaded Herd(Whose necks, the laboring yoke, had neuer spher'd)Draue swiftly on; and then into a stall(Hillie; yet past to, through an humble valeAnd hollow Dells, in a most louely Meade)He gatherd all; and them diuinely feddWith Odorous Cypresse; and the rauishing TreeThat makes his Eaters, lose the memorieOf name, and countrie. Then he brought, withall;Much wood; whose sight, unto his serch let fallThe Art of making fire. Which thus he tried:He tooke a branch of Lawrell, amplifiedPast others, both in beautie, and in sise;Yet, lay next hand; rubb'd it; and strait did riseA warme fume from it. Steele, being that did raise(As Agent) the attenuated BaiesTo that hot vapor. So that, Hermes foundBoth fire first; and of it, the seede, close boundIn other substances; and then, the seedHe multiplied; of sere-wood making feedThe apt heat of it; in a pile Combin'de,Laid in a lower Pit; that in flames strait shin'de; And cast a sparkling crack up to the Skye;All the drie parts, so feruent were, and hyeIn their combustion. And how long the forceOf glorious Vulcan, kept the fire in course;So long was he, in dragging from their stall,Two of the crook-hancht Herd: that ror'd withall;And rag'd for feare, t'approch the sacred fire:To which did all, his dreadfull powrs aspire.When (blustring forth their breath) He on the soule,Cast both, at length; though with a world of toile.For long he was, in getting them to groundAfter their through-thrust, and most mortall wound.But worke, to worke, he ioin'd; the flesh and cut,Couerd with fat; and (on treene broches put)In peeces rosted. But, in the'IntestinesThe black blood, and the honorarie chines,Together with the carcases, lay thereCast on the cold earth, as no Deities chere.The Hydes, vpon a rugged rock he spred;And thus were these now, all in peeces shred,And undistinguisht from Earths common herd:Though borne for long date; and to heauen endeard;And now must euer liue, in dead euent.But Hermes, herehence, hauing his content,Car'd for no more; but drew to places euen,The fat-works, that, of force, must haue for heauenTheir capitall ends; though stlone; and therefore wereIn twelue parts cut, for twelue choice Deities chere, By this deuotion. To all which, he gaueTheir seuerall honors; and did wish to haueHis equall part thereof; as free, and wellAs th'other Deities; but the fattie smellAfflicted him, though he immortall were;Play'ng mortall parts; and being, (like mortalls) here.Yet his proud minde, nothing the more obaydeFor being a God, himselfe; and his owne aideHauing to cause his due: And though in heartHee highly wisht it; but the weaker partSubdu'd the stronger; and went on, in ill.Euen heauenly Powre, had rather haue his Will,Then haue his Right; and will's the worst of All,When but in least sort, it is criminall;One Taint, being Author of a Number, still.And thus (resolu'd to leaue his hallow'd Hill)First, both the fat parts, and the fleshie, AllTaking away; at the steepe-entry'd stallHe laid all; All, the feet and heads entire;And all the sere-wood; making cleare with fire.And now, he leauing there then, all things doneAnd finisht, in their fit perfection;(The Coles put out; and their black Ashes throwneFrom all discouerie, by the louely lightThe cherefull Moone cast; shyning all the Night)He strait assum'd a nouell voices note;And in the whirle-pit-eating-flood, afloteHe set his sandalls. When now, once againe The-that-morne-borne-Cyllenius, did attaineHis Homes diuine height; all the farr-stretcht waieNo one blest God, encountring, his assaie;Nor Mortall Man; nor any Dogg durst spendHis-borne-to-barke-mouth at him; till, in th'end,He reacht his Caue; and at the Gate went inCrooked, and wrapt into a fold so thin,That no eye could discouer his repayre;But as a darknesse, of th'Autumnall ayre.When going on; fore-right; he straie arriu'dAt his rich Phane: his soft feet quite depriu'dOf all least noise, of one that trod the earth;They trod so swift to reach his roome of Birth.Where, In his swath-hands, he his shoulders wrapt,And (like an Infant, newly hauing scap'tThe teeming streights) as in the Palms he layOf his lou'd Nurse. Yet instantly would play(Freeing his right hand) with his bearing clothAbout his knees wrapt; and strait (loosing bothHis right and left hand) with his left, he caughtHis most-lou'd Lute. His Mother yet, was taughtHis wanton wiles; nor could a Gods wit lieHis from a Goddesse; who did therefore tryeHis answer, thus: Why (thou made all of sleight)And whence ariu'st thou, in this rest of Night?Improuident Impudent; In my conceiptThou rather shouldst be getting forth thy Gate,With all flight fit, for thy engander'd State; (In merit of th'Ineuitable bands,To be impos'd by vext Latona's handsIustly incenst for her Apollo's harms)Thenly thus wrapt, as ready for her arms,To take thee vp, and kisse thee: Would to heauen,(In crosse of that high grace) Thou hadst beene giuenVp to Perdition; ere poore mortalls beareThose blacke banes, that thy father ThundererHath planted thee of purpose to confer,On them, and Deities. He return'd replie;As Master of the feates of Policie;Mother? why ayme you thus amisse at me?As if I were a Sonne that InfancieCould keepe from all the skill, that Age can teach?Or bad in cheating, but a childish reach?And of a Mothers mandats, fear'd the breach?I mount that Art at first; that will be bestWhen all times consummate their cunningest.Able to counsaile, Now my selfe, and thee,In all things best, to all Eternitie.We cannot liue like Gods here, without gifts;No, nor without corruption, and shifts.And much lesse, without eating; as we mustIn keeping thy rules, and in being Iust;Of which we cannot undergoe the lodes.Tis better here, to Imitate the Gods,And wine, or wench out all times Periods;To that end, growing rich in readie heapes; Stor'de with Reuennews; being in corne-fielde reapesOf infinite Acres; then to liue enclos'dIn Caues, to all Earths sweetest ayre expos'd.I, as much honor hold, as Phœbus does,And if my Father please not to disposePossessions to me; I my selfe will seeIf I can force them in, for I can bePrince of all Theeues. And if Latona's SonneMake after my stealth, Indignation;I'le haue a Scape, as well as he a Serch,And ouertake him with a greater lurch.For I can post to Pythos; and breake through,His huge house, there; where harbors wealth enough;Most precious Tripods; Caldrons; Steele, and Gold;Garments rich wrought; and full of liberall fold:All which will I, at pleasure owne; and thowShalt see all; wilt thou but thy sight bestow. Thus chang'd great words; the Gote-byde-wearers Sonne,And Maia, of Maiestique fashion. And now the Ayre-begot Aurora roseFrom out the Ocean-great-in-ebbs-and flows;When, at the neuer-shorne, pure-and-faire Groue,(Onchestus) consecrated to the loueOf round and long-neckt Neptune; Phœbus foundA man whom heauie yeares, had prest halfe round;And yet at worke, in plashing of a FenceAbout a Vineyeard; that had residenceHard by the high-way; whom Latona's Sonne, Made it not strange, but first did question,And first saluted: Ho? you? Aged syreThat here are hewing from the Vine, the Bryre;For certaine Oxen, I come here t'enquireOut of Pieria; femalls All; and rer'dAll, with hornes wreath'd, unlike the common Herde;A Cole-black Bull, fed by them all alone;And all obseru'd for preseruationThrough all their foodie, and delicious Fen;With foure fierce Mastifs, like one-minded men.These left their Doggs, and Bull; (which I admire)And when was nere set, Daies eternall fire;From their fierce Guardians; from their delicate fare,Made clere departure. To me then declare;(O ould man, long since borne) If thy graue raieHath any man seene, making stealthfull waieWith all those Oxen! Th'olde man made replie;Tis hard (O friend) to render readily,Account of all, that may inuade mine eye;For many a Trauailer, this high-way tredds;Some in much ills serch; some, in noble threddsLeading their liues out; but I, this young DayEuen from her first point, haue made good display,Of all men, passing this abundant hill,Planted with Vines; and no such stealthfull ill,Her light hath showne me: But last Euening late,I sawe a Thing, that shew'd of childish state;To my ould lights; and seem'd as he pursude A Herd of Oxen, with braue Heads indude;Yet but an Infant; and retainde a Rodd;Who warilie, both this, and that way trodd,His head still backwards turn'd. This th'ould Man spake;Which he well thought vpon; and swiftly brakeInto his Pursuit, with abundant wing;That strooke but one plaine; ere he knew the thingThat was the Theefe; to be th'Impostor borne;Whom Ioue yet, with his Sonnes name did adorne.In studie, and with Ardor, then the King(Ioues dazeling Sonne) plac't his exploring wingOn sacred Pylos, for his forced Heard;His ample shoulders, in a cloud ensphear'dOn fierie chrimsine. Strait, the steps he foundOf his stolne Head: And said; Strange sights confoundMy apprehensiue powers: for here I seeThe Tracts of Oxen; but auersiuelieConuerted towards the Pierian Hills,As tredding to their Meade of Daffodills:But, nor mine eye, Mens feet, nor Womens drawes;Nor hoarie Wolues; nor Beares; nor Lyons Paws,Nor thick-necks Bulls they show. But hee that does,These monstrous Deeds, with neuer so swift shooes;Hath past from that howre hither; but from hence,His foule course, may meete, fouler consequence.With this, tooke Phœbus wing; and Hermes still,(For all his Threats) secure lay in his HillWall'd with a woodd; and more, a Rock, beside Where a Retreat rann, deepely multiplideIn blinding shadows; and where th'endlesse Bride;Bore to Saturnius, his Ingenious Sonne:An Odor, worth a Hearts desire, being throwne,Along the Heauen-sweet Hill; on whose Herb, fedd,Rich flocks of sheepe, that bow not where they treddTheir horney Pasterns. There, the light of Men,(Ioues Sonne Apollo) strait descended then,The Marble Pauement, in that gloomie Den.On whom, when Ioue, and Maia's Sonne set eye,Wroth for his Oxen: On then, instantlyHis Odorous swarth-hands, flew; in which, as closeTh'Impostor lay; As in the coole reposeOf cast-on Ashes, Harths of burning ColesLy in the woods hidd, vnder the ControulesOf skilfull Colyers: Euen so close did lieInscrutable Hermes in Apollo's eye.Contracting his great God-head, to a smallAnd Infant likenesse; feet, hands, head and All.And as a Hunter hath beene often viewd,From Chace retir'd with both his hands embrewdIn his Games blood; that doth for water callTo clense his hands; And to prouoke withallDelightsome sleepe; new washt and laid to rest;So now lay Hermes in the close comprestChace of his Oxen. His New-found-out Lute;Beneath his arme held: As if no pursuiteBut that Prise, and the virtue of his play, His heart affect. But to Phœbus, lay,His close Heart, open: And he, likewise, knewThe braue Hyll-Hymph there; and her deare Sonne, new-Borne; and as well wrapt, in his wiles, as weed's.All the close shroud's too, for his Rapinous deedes,In All the Caue, he knew: and with his keyHe open'd three of them; In which there laySiluer, and Gold-heapes; Nectar infinite store;And Deare Ambrosia; and of weedes she wore,(Pure white, and Purple) A rich Wardrobe shin'de;Fir for the blest States, of powrs so diuin'de.All which discouerd; Thus to MercurieHe offerd Conference: Infant? you that lieWrapt so in swath-bands; Instantly unfoldIn what conceald Retreats of yours you holdMy Oxen stolne by you; Or strait we shallIarr, as beseemes not, powrs Celestiall.For I will take, and hurle Thee to the DeepesOf dismall Tartarus; where ill Death keepesHis gloomie, and inextricable fates;And to no Eye, that light Illuminates,Mother, nor Father, shall returne thee free,But vnder Earth, shall Sorrow fetter thee,And few repute thee, their Superiour. On him replied, Crafts subtlest Counsailor;What cruell speech, hath past Latona's Care!Seekes he his stolne-wilde-Cows, where Deities are?I haue nor seene, nor heard; nor can report; From others mouthes, one word of their resortTo any stranger. Nor will I, to gaineA base Reward, a false Relation faine.Nor would I; Could I tell. Resemble IAn Ox-Theefe? Or a Man? EspeciallieA man of such a courage; such a forceAs to that labour goes? That violent course?Nor Infants worke is That. My powres aspireTo sleepe, and quenching of my huners fireWith Mothers Milke; and gainst cold shades, to armeWith Cradle-cloths, my shoulders; and Baths warme;That no man may conceiue, the warr you threatCan spring, in cause, from my so peacefull heat.And euen amongst th'Immortalls it would beareEuent of absolute Miracle, to heareA new-borne Infants forces should transcendThe limits of his Dores; much lesse contendWith untam'd Oxen. This speech nothing seemesTo sauour the Decorum of the BeamesCast round about the Ayre Apollo breakes,Where his diuine minde, her intention speakes.I brake but yesterday, the blessed wombe;My feet are tender, and the common TombeOf men, (the Earth) lies sharpe beneath their tred.But, (if you please) euen by my Fathers headI'le take the great Oath; That nor I protestMy selfe, to Author on your InterestAny such usurpation; Nor haue I Seene any other, that felloniouslyHath forc't your Oxen. Strange thing! what are thoseOxen of yours? Or what are Oxen? knewsMy rude minde, thinke you? My eares onely touchAt their renowne; and heare that there are such. This speech he past; and euer as he spakeBeames from the hayre, about his eye-lidds brake;His eye-brows, vp, and downe cast; and his eyeEuery way look't, askans, and careleslie.And he, into a loftie whistling fell;As if he idle thought, Apollo's spell. Apollo (gently smiling) made Replie;O thou Impostor! whose thoughts euer lyeIn labour with Deceipt! For certaine, IRetaine Opinon; that thou, (euen thus soone)Hast ransackt, many a House; and not in oneNights-worke alone; nor in one Countries neitherHast beene beseeging, House and Man togehter;Rigging, and rifeling all waies; and no NoiseMade with thy soft feete, where it all destroies.Soft therefore, well; and tender thou maist callThe feet that thy stealths, goe, and fly withall.For many a field-bredd Herdsman, (unheard still)Hast thou made drowne, the Cauerns of the HillWhere his Retreates lie, with his helplesse teares;When any flesh-stealth thy desire end cares;And thou encountrest, either flocks of sheepeOr Herds of Oxen! vp then! doe not sleepe Thy last Nap, in thy Cradle; but come downe;(Companion of black Night) and for this CrowneOf thy young Rapines; beare (from all) the stateAnd stile of Prince Theefe, into endlesse Date. This said; he tooke the Infant in his Armes;And with him, the remembrance of his harmes;This Præsage utt'ring; lifting him aloft;Be euer more, the miserablie-softSlaue of the bellie; Pursuiuant of allAnd Author, of all mischiefs Capitall. He scorn'd his Prophesie so; he Nees'd in's faceMost forciblie (which hearing) his embraceHe loth'd; and hurl'd him gainst the ground; yet stillTooke seate before him; though, (with all the illHe bore by him) he would haue left full faineThat Hewer of his heart, so into twaine.Yet salu'd all thus; Come! (you so swadl'd thing;Issue of Maia, and the Thunders King;Be confident; I shall hereafter findeMy brode-browd Oxen. My Prophetique mindeSo farr from blaimg this thy course; that I,Foresee thee, (in it,) to PosteritieThe guide of All Men, (All waies,) to their ends. This spoken; Hermes, from the Earth Ascends;Starting Aloft; and as in Studie went;Wrapping himselfe, in his Integument;And thus askt Phœbus; Whither force you Me(Farr-shot; and farr most powrefull Deitie.) I know (for all your fayning) y'are still wroth,About your Oxen; and suspect my Troth.O Iupiter: I wish the generall RaceOf all Earths Oxen, rooted from her face.I steale your Oxen? I againe, professeThat neither, I, haue stolne them; nor can ghesseWho else should steale them. What strange Beasts are theseYour so-lou'd Oxen? I must say (to pleaseYour humor thus farr) that euen My few HoowresHaue heard their fame. But be the sentence yoursOf the Debate betwixt us; Or to Ioue(For more indifferencie) the Cause remoue. Thus when the Solitude-affecting God,And the Latonian seede, had laid abroad;All things betwixt them; (though not yet agreed;Yet, might I speake) Apollo did proceedeNothing uniustly, to charge MercurieWith stealing of the Cows, he does denie.But his Profession was, with filed speach,And Crafts faire Complements, to ouerreachAll; And euen Phœbus. Who because he knewHis Trade of subtletie; He still at viewHunted his Foe, through all the sandie waieUp to Olympus. Nor would let him straieFrom out his sight; but kept behinde him still. And now they reacht, the Odoriferous HillOf high Olympus, to their Father Ioue,To Arbitrate the Cause, in which they stroue. Where, before both; Talents of iustice werePropos'd for him, whom Ioue should sentence Clere,In cause of their contention. And nowAbout Olympus, (euer-crown'de with snow)The rumor of their controuersie flew.All the Incorruptible, to their view,On heauens steepe Mountaine, made return'd repaire. Hermes and He, that light hurls through the ayre;Before the Thunderers knees stood: who begunn,To question thus farr, his Illustrious Sonne:Phœbus: To what end bringst thou Captiue hereHim in whom my Minde, putts delights so deare?This New-borne Infant? that the place suppliesOf Herrald yet, to all the Deities?This serious busines, you may witnesse, drawesThe Deities whole Court, to discusse the cause. Phœbus replied: And not vnworthie isThe cause, of all the Court of Deities.For you shall heare, it comprehends the weightOf Deuastation; and the verie heightOf spoile, and rapine, euen of Deities rights.Yet you (as if my selfe lou'd such delights)Vse words that wound my heart. I bring you hereAn Infant, that, euen now, admits no PereIn rapes and robb'ries. Finding out, his Place,(After my measure of an infinite space)In the Cyllenian Mountaine. Such a oneIn all the Art of opprobration, As not in all the Deities, I haue seene;Nor in th'Obliuion-marckt-whole Race of men.In Night, he draue my Oxen from their Leas;Along the loftie rore-resounding Seas:From out the Rode-way quite: the steps of themSo quite transpos'd, as would amaze the beameOf any mindes eye: being so infinite muchInuolu'd in doubt; as showd a Deified touchWent to the works performance. All the wayThrough which, my corss-hou'd Cows hee did conuaie,Had dust so darklie-hard to serch; and HeSo past all measure, wrapt in subtiltie.For, nor with feet, nor hands, he form'd his steps,In passing through the drie waies sandie heap's:But vs'd another counsaile to keepe hiddHis monstrous Tracts; that showd as one had slidOn Oke, or other Boughs; That swept out stillThe footsteps of his Oxen; and did fillTheir prints up euer; to the Daffodill(Or daintie feeding Meddow) as they trodd,Driuen by this cautelous, and Infant God. A Mortall Man yet, saw him driuing onHis Prey to Pylos. Which when he had doneAnd got his Passe sign'd, with a sacred fireIn peace; and freely (though to his desireNot to the Gods, he offerd part of theseMy rauisht Oxen) he retires, and liesLike to the gloomie Night in his dimm Denn, All hid in darknesse; and in clouts againe,Wrapt him so closely; that the sharpe-seene eyeOf your owne Eagle, could not see him lye.For with his hands, the ayre he rarified(This way, and that mou'd) till bright gleames did glideAbout his Being; that if any eyeShould dare the Darknesse; Light appos'd so nieMight blinde it quite, with her Antipathie.Which wile he woue, in curious care t'illudeThe'Extreame of any eye, that could intrude.On which relying, he outrageouslie(When I accus'd him) trebled his replie;I did not see; I did not heare; nor IWill tell at all; that any other stoleYour brode-browd Beeues. Which an Impostors souleWould soone haue done; and any Author faineOf purpose onely, a Reward to gaine.And thus he colourd truth, in euery lie. This saud; Apollo sate; and Mercurie,The Gods Commander, pleas'd with this replie.Father! I'le tell the truth; (for I am trueAnd farr from Art to lie.) He did pursueEuen to my Caue, his Oxen: this selfe daie;The Sunn, new raising his illustrious raie.But brought with him, none of the Bliss-indu'd,Nor any ocular witnesse, to conclude,His bare assertion. But his owne commandLaid on with strong, and necessarie hand, To showe his Oxen. Using Threats to castMy poore, and Infant powrs, into the VastOf ghastlie Tartarus; because he bearesOf strength-sustayning youth, the flaming yeares.And I, but yesterday produc't to lightBy which, it fell into his owne fre sightThat I, in no similitude apper'dOf powre to be the forcer of a Herde.And credite me (O Father, since the GraceOf that name, in your stile, you please to place)I draue not home his Oxen, no nor preastPast mine owne threshold; for tis manifest,I reuerence, with my soule, the Sunn; and allThe knowing dwellers, in this heauenly Hall.Loue you; obserue the least: and tis most cleareIn your owne knowledge, that my Merits beareNo least guilt of his blame. To all which, I,Dare adde, heauens great oath, boldly swearing byAll these so well-built Entries of the Blest.And therefore when I saw my selfe so prestWith his reproches; I confesse I burn'dIn my pure gall; and harsh replie return'd.Adde your aid to your Yonger then; and freeThe scruple fixt in Phœbus Ielousie. This said; he winckt upon his Mire; and stillHis swath-hands, held beneath his arme; no WillDiscernd in him, to hide, but haue them showne. Ioue laught aloud at his Ingenious Sonne, Quitting himselfe with Art, so likely wrought,As showd in his heart, not a rapinous thought.Commanding Both, to beare attoned mindesAnd seeke out th'Oxen; In which serch he bindesHermes to play the Guide; and show the Sunn(All grudge exilde) the Shrowd to which he wunnHis fayre-eyd Oxen. Then; his forehead bow'dFor signe it must be so; and Hermes show'dHis free obedience. So soone, he enclin'dTo his perswasion, and command, his minde. Now then, Ioues Iarring Sonnes, no longer stood;But sandie Pylos, and th'Alphæan floodReacht instantly; and made as quick a fallOn those rich-feeding fields, and loftie stallWhere Phœbus Oxen, Hermes safelie kept;Driuen in, by night. When sodainely he steptUp to the stonie Caue; and into lightDraue forth the Oxen Phœbus at first sightKnew them the same: and saw apart dispreadVpon a high-rais'd rock; the hydes new fleadOf th'Oxen sacrifis'd. Then Phœus said;O thou in craftie counsailes vndisplaid!How couldst thou cut the throtes, and cast to EarthTwo such huge Oxen? being so young a birth,And a mere Infant? I admire thy forceAnd will, behinde thy back. But this swift courseOf growing into strength, thou hadst not needContinue any long Date, O thou seed Of honor'd Maia! Hermes, (to shew howHe did those Deedes) did forthwith cut and bowStrong Osiers in soft folds; and strappl'd straitOne of his hugest Oxen: all his weightLay'ng prostrate on the earth, at Phœbus feet:All his foure clouen houes, easly made to greeteEach other upwards; all, together brought.In all which bands yet, all the Beasts powres wroughtTo rise, and stand; when all the Herd aboutThe mighty Hermes, rusht in, to help outTheir fellow from his fetters; Phœbus viewOf al this, vp to Admiration drewEuen his high forces: And sterne lookes he threwAt Hermes for his Herds wrong; and the placeTo which he had retir'd them; being in graceAnd fruitfull riches of it, so entire:All which, set all his force, on enuious fire.All whose heat, flew out of his eyes in flames:Which faine he would haue hidd, to bide the shamesOf his ill gouern'd passions. But with easeHermes could calme them; and his humors pleaseStill at his pleasure; where he ne're so greatIn force, and fortitude; and high in heat.In all which, he his Lute tooke; and assaidA Song upon him; and so strangely plaid;That from his hand, a rauishing horror flew.Which Phœbus, into laughter turn'd; and grewPleasant past measure; Tunes so artfull clere Strooke euen his heart-strings; & his minde, made beare.His Lute so powerfull was, in forcing loue;(As his hand rul'd it) that from him it droueAll feare of Phœbus; yet he haue him stillThe upper hand; and (to aduance his skill)To utmost Miracle; he plaid sometimes,Single awhile; In which, when all they ClymesOf rapture he had reacht; (to make the SunnAdmire enough) O then, his voice would runnSuch points vpon his play; and did so moue,They tooke Apollo Prisoner to his loue.And now the deathlesse Gods, and deathfull EarthHe sung; beginning, at their eithers Birth,To full extent of all their Emperie.And, first; the honor to Mnemosyne(The Muses Mother) of all Goddesse statesHe gaue; euen forc't too't, by the equall fates.And then (as it did in Prioritie fallOf Age, and Birth) He celebrated All.And with such Elegance, and Order sung;(His Lute still toucht, to stick more off his tongue)That Phœbus heart, with infinite loue, he eate.Who therefore thus, did his Deserts entreate: Master of Sacrifice! chiefe soule of feast?Patient of all paines? Artizan so blest;That all things thou canst doe, in any One.Worth fiftie Oxen is th'InuentionOf this one Lute. We both, shall now; I hope; In firme peace, worke, to all our wishes scape.Informe me, (thou that euery way canst winde,And turne to Act, all wishes of thy minde)Together with thy birth, came all thy skill?Or did some God, or God-like man instillThis heauenly song to thee? Me thinks I heareA new voice; such as neuer yet came nereThe brest of any; either Man, or God,Till in thee, it had Prime, and Period.What Art? what Muse? that medcine can produceFor cares most curelesse? what inueterate use;Or practise of a virtue so profuse,(Which three, doe all the contribution keepsThat Ioy, or Loue conferrs, or pleasing Sleepe)Taught thee the soueraigne facture of them all?I, of the Muses, am the capitallConsort, or followers: (and to these belongThe grace of dance; all worthie waies of song;and euer-florishing verse: the delicate SetAnd sound of Instruments.) But neuer yetDid anything so much affect my mindeWith ioy, and care to compasse; as this kindeOf Song and Play: that for the spritely feastOf florishing assemblies, are the bestAnd ablest works, that euer Worth gaue Act.My powres with admiration stand distract,To heare, with what a hand to make in loue,Thou ruest thy Lute. And (though thy yongst bowres moue,) At full art, in ould counsailes. Here I vow(Euen by this Cornell Dart, I use to throw)To thee, and to thy Mother; He make theeAmongst the Gods, of glorious degree.Guide of Mens waies, and Theirs. And will impartTo thee, the mightie Imperatorie Art:Bestowe rich gifts on thee; and in the endNeuer deceuive thee. Hermes (as a friendThat wrought on all aduantage; and made gaineHis Capitall obiect) that did entertainePhœbus Apollo: Doe thy Dignities(Farr-working God; and circularlie wise)Demand my vertues? without enuie IWill teach thee to ascend my facultie.And this Day thou shalt reach it; finding me,In Acts and Counsailes, all waies kinde to thee;As one that all things knows; And first tak'st seatAmongst th'Immortalls; being good, and great.And therefore to Ioues loue, mak'st free accesse,Euen out of his accomplisht Holinesse.Great gifts, he likewise giues thee; who (fame saies)Hast wunn thy greatnesse, by his will: his waies.By him know'st all the powers Propheticall(O thou farr-worker) and the fates of all.Yea; and I know thee rich; yet apt to learne:And euen thy Wish, dost but discerne, and earne.And since thy soule, so burns to know the wayTo play and sing as I doe: sing, and play. Play; and perfection in thy play employ;And be thy care, to learne things good; thy Joy.Take thou my Lute (My Loue) and giue thou me,The glorie of so great a facultie.This sweet-tun'd consort; held but in thy hand;Sing; and perfection in thy song command.For thou, alreadie, hast the way to speakeFayrely, and elegantly; and to breakeAll eloquence into thy utterd minde.One gift from heauen found, may another finde.Use then, securely, this thy gift; and goeTo feasts, and dances, that enamour so;And to that couetous sport of getting flory,That Day, nor Night, will suffer to be sory.Whoeuer, does but say, in verse; sings still:Which he that can; of any other skillIs capable; so he be taught by Art,And wisedome; and can speake, at euery partThings pleasing to an understanding Minde:And such a one, that seekes this Lute, shall finde.Him still it teaches easely, though he plaiesSoft voluntaries onely; and assaiesAs wanton, as the sports of children are.And (euen when he aspires to singularIn all the Mast'ries he shall play or sing)Findes the whole worke, but an vnhappie thing:He (I say) sure; shall of this Lute be King.But he; whoeuer, rudely sets upon, Of this Lutes skill, th'Inquest, or Question;Neuer so ardently, and angrilie;Without the aptnesse, and habilitieOf Art; and Nature sitting: neuer shallAspire to this; but vtter triuiallAnd idle accents; though sure ne're so lowd,And neuer so commended of the Crowde.But thee I know (O Eminent Sonne of Ioue)The fiery Learner, of what euer LoueHath sharpn'd thy affections to achiue.And thee, I giue this Lute; let us now liueFeeding vpon the Hill-and-horse-fed EarthOur neuer-handled Oxen: whose deare Birth(Their femalls fellowd with their Males) let floweIn store enough hereafter; nor must you(How-euer-cunning hearted your wits are)Boile in your Gall, a Grudge too circulare. Thus gaue he him his Lute; which he embrac't;And gaue againe, a Gode, whose bright head castBeames like the light forth; leauing to his careHis Oxens keeping. Which, with ioy full fare,He tooke on him. The Lute Apollo tookeInto his left hand; and aloft he shookeDelightsome sounds up; to which God did sing. Then were the Oxen, to their endlesse SpringTurn'd; and Ioues Two illustrious Off-springs flewVp to Olympus, where it euer snew;Delighted with their Lutes sound all the way. Whom Ioue, much ioi'd to see; and endlesse stayGaue to their knot of friendship. From which date,Hermes gaue Phœbus, an eternall stateIn his affection: whose sure pledge and signeHis Lute was; and the Doctrine so diuine,Jointly conferd on him. Which well might beTrue Symbole of his Loues simplicitie. On th'other part; Apollo, in his friendForm'd th'Art of Wisedome; to the binding endOf his vow'd friendship; and (for further meede)Gaue him the farr-heard fistularie Reede. For all these forms of friendship, Phœbus yetFeard that both forme, and substance were not mettIn Mercurie's intentions: and, in plaine,Said, (since he saw him, borne to craft and gaine;And that Ioues will had him the honor done,To change at his will, the possessionOf others Gods) he fear'd his breach of of vowes,In stealing both his Lute, and comming Bowes.And therefore wisht, that what the Gods affect,Himselfe would witnesse; and to his requestHis head Bow; swearing by th'Impetuous floodOf Styx; that of his whole possessions, not a GoodHe would diminish; but therein maintaineThe full content, in which his Minde did raigne.And then did Maia's Sonne, his fore-head bow:Making, by all that he desir'd, his vow:Neuer to pray more vpon any Thing, In iust possession of the farr-shot King;Nor euer to come neare, a House of his. Latonian Phœbus, bowd his Brow to this,With his like promise; say'ng, Not any OneOf all the Gods, nor any Man, that, SonneIs to Saturnius; is more deare to me;More trusted, nor mor honord, is then thee.Which, yet, with greater Gifts of Deitie,In future I'le confirme; and giue thy stateA Rodd that riches shall accumulate;Not leaue the bearer, thrall to Death, or fateOr any sicknesse. All of Gods it is;Three-leau'd; and full of all felicities.And this shall be thy Guardian; this shall giueThe Gods to thee, in all the truth they liue.And finally, shall this the Tutresse beOf all the words, and workes, informing meFrom Ioues high counsailes; making knowne to theeAll my instructions. But to Prophesie(O best of Ioues belou'd) and that high skill;Which to obtaine, lies burning in thy will;Nor thee, nor any God, will Fate let learne.Onely Ioues minde, hath insight to discerneWhat that importeth; yet am I allowd(My knowne faith trusted; and my forhead bowd;Our great Oath taken, to resolue to noneOf all th'Immortalls, the restrictionOf that deepe knowledge) of it All, the Minde. Since then it sits, in such fast bounds confinde,(O Brother) when the Golden rodd is heldIn thy strong hand; seeke not to haue reueal'dAny sure fate, that Ioue will haue conceald.For no man shall, by know'ng, preuent his fate;And therefore will I hold, in my free stateThe powre, to hurt and helpe, what man I will,Of all the greatest; or least toucht with ill;That walke within the Circle of mine eye;In all the Tribes, and Sexes, it shall trye. Yet, truely, any man shall haue his willTo reape the fruites of my Prophetique skill;Whoeuer seekes it, by the voice, or wingOf Birds, borne truely, such euents to sing.Nor will I falsly, nor with fallaciesInfringe the truth, on which his faith relies;But he that Truths, in chattering plumes would finde;(Quite opposite to them, that prompt my Minde,)And learne by naturall forgers of vaine lyes,The more-then-euer-certaine Deities;That man shall Sea-waies tred, that leaue no Tracts;And false, or no guide finde, for all his facts.And yet will I, his Gifts accept as wellAs his; to whom, the simple truth I tell. One other thing to thee, I'le yet make knowne(Maia's exceedingly renowned sonneAnd Ioues; and of the Gods whole sessionThe most ingenious Genius.) There dwell Within a Crooked Crannie, in a DellBeneath Parnassus; certaine sisters borne,Call'd Parcæ; whom extreame swift wings adorne;Their Number three; that haue upon their headsWhite Barly floure still sprinckled; and are maids,And these are schoole-Mistresses of things to come,Without the gift of Prophecie: of whom(Being but a boy, and keeping Oxen, nere)I learn'd their skill; though my great Father wereCareles of it, or them. These flying from home,To others roofes; and fedd with Hony-come,Command all skill; and (being enraged then)Will freely tell the Truths of things to Men.But if they giue them not, that Gods sweete meat;They then are apt, to vtter their deceit,And leade Men from their way. And these will IGiue thee hereafter; when their scrutinieAnd truth; thou hast both made, and learn'd, and then;Please thy selfe with them; and the Race of men(Wilt thou know any) with thy skill endeare:Who will, (be sure) afford it greedie eare;And heare it often, it if proue sincere. Take these (O Maia's Sonne) and in thy care,Be Horse, and Oxen: all such Men as arePatient of labour; Lyons; white-tooth'd Bores;Mastifs, and flocks, that feede the flowrie shores;And euery foure-foot Beast: all which shall standIn awe of thy high Imperatory hand. Be thou to Dis too, sole Ambassador;Who (though all gifts, and bounties he abhor)On thee he will bestowe, a wealthie One. Thus King Apollo, honor'd Maia's Sonne,With all the rights of friendship: all whose loueHad Imposition, from the Will of Ioue. And thus, with Gods and Mortalls Hermes liu'd;Who truely helpt but few; but all deceiu'dWith an undifferencing respect; and madeUsine words, and false perswasions his Trade.His Deeds, were all associats of the Night;In which, his close wrongs, car'd for no mans Right. So all salutes to Hermes, that are due;Of whom, and all Gods, shall my Muse sing true._-_fleuron_type_7.png)
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ermes, the Sonne of Ioue and Maia, sing,(O Muse) th'Arcadian, & Ollenian King:They rich in flocks; he heauen enriching still,In Messages, return'd with all his will.Whom glorious Maia (The Nimph rich in haire)Mixing with Ioue, in amorous affaire;Brought forth to him: sustaining a retreatFrom all th'Immortalls of the blessed seat;And liuing in the same darke Caue; where IoueInform'd, at mid-night, the effect of loue,Vnknowne to either man or Deitie:Sweet sleepe once, hauing seas'd the ielous eyeOf Iuno, deckt with wrists of iuorie.But when great Ioues high minde was consummate,The tenth moneth had in heauen confin'de the dateOf Maias Labour; And into the sightShe brought, in one birth, Labours infinite. For then she bore a sonne, that all tried waiesCould turne, and winde, to wisht euents, assaies.A faire tongu'd, but false-hearted Counsellor.Rector of Ox-stealers; and for all stealths, boreA varied singer. Speeder of Nights spiesAnd guide of all her dreames obscurities.Guard of dore-Guardians: and was borne to beAmongst th'Immortalls, that wing'd Deitie,That in an instant, should doe acts would askeThe Powres of others, and Eternall Taske.Borne, in the Morne; He form'd his Lute at Noone;At Night stole all the Oxen of the Sunne;And all this in his Births first day was done;Which was the fourth of the encreasing Moone.Because Celestiall lims, sustain'd his straines;His sacred swath-hands, must not be his chaines.So (starting up) to Phœbus Herde he stept;Found strait, the high-roof't Caue where they were kept,And (th'entrie passing) he th'inuention found,Of making Lutes; and did in wealth aboundBy that Inuention; Since He first of all,Was author of that Engine Musicall.By this meane, mou'd to the ingenious worke:Nere the Caues inmost ouerture, did lurkeA Tortois, tasting th'odoriferous grasse;Leisurely mouing; and this Obiect wasThe motiue to Ioues Sonne (who could conuertTo profitablest uses, all desert That nature had in any worke conuaid)To forme the Lute: when (smiling) thus he said;Thou mou'st in me, a note of excellent vse;Which thy ill forme, shall neuer so seduceT'euert the good, to be inform'd by it,In pliant force, of my forme-forging wit. Then the slowe Tortois, wrought on by his minde,He thus saluted; All ioy to the kindeInstinct of nature, in thee; Borne to beThe spirriter of Dances; companieFor feasts, and following Banquets; grac't and blestFor bearing light to all the interestClaim'd in this Instrument. From whence shall springPlay faire, and sweet; to which may Graces sing.A prettie painted cote, thou putt'st on here(O Tortois) while thy hill-bred vitall sphereConfines thy fashion; but (surpris'd by me,)I'le beare thee home; where thou shalt euer beA Profit to me; and yet nothing moreWill I contemne thee, in my merited store.Goods, with good parts got, worth and honour gaue:Left goods, and honors, euery foole may haue.And since thou first, shalt giue me meanes to liue,I'le loue thee euer. Virtuous qualities giueTo liue at home with them, enough content;Where those that want such inward ornaments,Fly out for outward; their life, made their lode;Tis best to be at home; Harme lurks abroad: And certainely, thy vertue shall be knowneGainst great-yll-causing incantation,To serue as for a Lance, Or Ammules.And where, in comfort of thy vitall heat,Thou now breathst but a sound confus'd, for song;Expos'd by nature; after death, more strongThou shalt in sounds of Art be; and commandSong infinite sweeter. Thus with either handHe tooke it up; and instantly tooke flightBack to his Caue, with that his home-delight.Where, (giuing to the Mountaine Tortois ventsOf life and motion) with fit InstrumentsForg'd of bright steele; be strait inform'd a Lute.Put neck, and frets to it; of which, a suteHe made of splitted quills; in equall spaceImpos'd vpon the neck; and did embraceBoth backe, and bosome. At whose height (as gymnsT'extend, and ease the strings) he put in pynns.Seuen strings, of seuerall tunes, he then applied;Made of the Entrailes of a sheepe well dried;And throughly twisted. Next he did prouideA Case for all; made of an Oxes Hyde;Out of his counsailes to preserue as well,As to create: and all this Action fellInto an instant consequence. His word,And worke, had indiuiduall accord.All being as swiftly to perfection brought;As any worldly mans, most rauisht thought, Whose minde, Care cuts, in an infinityOf varied parts, or passions instantly;Or as the frequent twincklings of an eye. And thus his House-delight giuen absolute end;He toucht it; and did euery string extend(With an exploratorie spirit assaid)To all the parts, that could on it be plaid.It sounded dreadfully; to which he sung,As if from thence, the first, and true force sprungThat fashions Virtue. God, in him did sing.His play was likewise and unspeakable thing,Yet, but as an extemporall Assay,Of what showe, it would make, being the first way,It tryed his hand; or a tumultuous noise,Such as at feasts, the first-flowr'd spirits of BoiesPoure out in mutuall contumelies still:As little squaring with his curious will;Or was as wanton, and untaught a Store. Of Ioue and Maia, that rich shooes still wore,He sung; who sufferd, ill reports before,And foule staines, vnder her faire titles bore.But Hermes sung, her Nation, and her NameDid itterate euer. All her high-flowne fameOf being Ioues Mistresse; celebrating allHer trains of seruants; and collaterallSumpture of Houses; all her Tripods there,And Caldrons huge; encreasing euery yeare.All which she knew; yet felt her knowledge sting With her fames losse; which (found) she more wisht sung.But now; he, in his sacred cradle laidHis Lute so absolute; and strait conuaidHimselfe up to a watch-towre, forth his house;Rich, and diuinely OdoriferousA loftie wile, at worke in his conceipt;Thirsting the practise of his Empires height.And where Impostors rule; (since sable NightMust serue their deeds) he did his deeds their right:For now the neuer-resting Sunne, was turn'dFor th'vnder earth, and in the Ocean burn'dHis Coch, and Coursers. When th'ingenious spiePieria's shadie hill, had in his eye;Where the immortall Oxen of the GodsIn ayres flood solac't their select Abods;And earths sweet greene floure, that was neuer shorne;Fed euer downe; And those the wittie-borne(Argicides,) set servous spie upon:Seuering from all the rest; and setting goneFull fiftie of the violent Bellowers.Which driuing through the sands; he did reuerse(His births-craft strait remembring) all their houes;And them transpos'd, in opposite remoues;The fore, behinde set; The behinde, before;T'employ the eyes, of such as should explore.And he himselfe (as flye-pac't) cast awayHis sandalls, on the sea-sands. Past display;And unexcogitable thoughts, in Act Putting; to shunn, of his stolne steps, the Tract.Mixing, both Tamrisk; and like-Tamrisk sprayes,In a most rare confusion, to raiseHis footsteps up from earth. Of which sprayes, he(His armefull gathering, fresh from off the Tree,)Made for his sandalls, Tyes; both leaues, and tyesHolding together; and then fear'd no eyesThat could affect his feets discoueries. The Tamrisk boughs be gather'd, making wayBacke from Pieria: but as to conuaieProuision in them; for his iourney fit,It being long; and therefore needing it. An ould man, now at labour, nere the fieldOf greene Onchestus; knew the verdant yieldOf his fayre armefull; whom th'ingenious SonneOf Maia, therefore; salutationDid thus beginn to; Ho? ould man! That nowArt crokked growne, with making Plants to grow!Thy nerues will farr be spent; when these boughs shallTo these their leaues, confer me fruit, and All.But see not thou, what euer thou dost see;Nor heare, though heare; But all, is touching meConceale; since nought, it can endamage thee. This, and no more be said; and on draue stillHis brode-browd Oxen. Many a shadie Hill,And many an echoing valley; many a fieldPleasant, and wishfull, did his passage yieldTheir safe Transcension. But now, the diuine And black-browd Night (his Mistresse) did declineExceeding swiftly; Daies most earely lightFast hasting to her first point; to exciteWorldlings to worke; and in her Watch-towre, shone,King Pallas-Megamedes seed, (the Moone)When through th'Alphæan flood, Ioues powerfull SonnePhœbus-Apollo's ample-foreheaded Herd(Whose necks, the laboring yoke, had neuer spher'd)Draue swiftly on; and then into a stall(Hillie; yet past to, through an humble valeAnd hollow Dells, in a most louely Meade)He gatherd all; and them diuinely feddWith Odorous Cypresse; and the rauishing TreeThat makes his Eaters, lose the memorieOf name, and countrie. Then he brought, withall;Much wood; whose sight, unto his serch let fallThe Art of making fire. Which thus he tried:He tooke a branch of Lawrell, amplifiedPast others, both in beautie, and in sise;Yet, lay next hand; rubb'd it; and strait did riseA warme fume from it. Steele, being that did raise(As Agent) the attenuated BaiesTo that hot vapor. So that, Hermes foundBoth fire first; and of it, the seede, close boundIn other substances; and then, the seedHe multiplied; of sere-wood making feedThe apt heat of it; in a pile Combin'de,Laid in a lower Pit; that in flames strait shin'de; And cast a sparkling crack up to the Skye;All the drie parts, so feruent were, and hyeIn their combustion. And how long the forceOf glorious Vulcan, kept the fire in course;So long was he, in dragging from their stall,Two of the crook-hancht Herd: that ror'd withall;And rag'd for feare, t'approch the sacred fire:To which did all, his dreadfull powrs aspire.When (blustring forth their breath) He on the soule,Cast both, at length; though with a world of toile.For long he was, in getting them to groundAfter their through-thrust, and most mortall wound.But worke, to worke, he ioin'd; the flesh and cut,Couerd with fat; and (on treene broches put)In peeces rosted. But, in the'IntestinesThe black blood, and the honorarie chines,Together with the carcases, lay thereCast on the cold earth, as no Deities chere.The Hydes, vpon a rugged rock he spred;And thus were these now, all in peeces shred,And undistinguisht from Earths common herd:Though borne for long date; and to heauen endeard;And now must euer liue, in dead euent.But Hermes, herehence, hauing his content,Car'd for no more; but drew to places euen,The fat-works, that, of force, must haue for heauenTheir capitall ends; though stlone; and therefore wereIn twelue parts cut, for twelue choice Deities chere, By this deuotion. To all which, he gaueTheir seuerall honors; and did wish to haueHis equall part thereof; as free, and wellAs th'other Deities; but the fattie smellAfflicted him, though he immortall were;Play'ng mortall parts; and being, (like mortalls) here.Yet his proud minde, nothing the more obaydeFor being a God, himselfe; and his owne aideHauing to cause his due: And though in heartHee highly wisht it; but the weaker partSubdu'd the stronger; and went on, in ill.Euen heauenly Powre, had rather haue his Will,Then haue his Right; and will's the worst of All,When but in least sort, it is criminall;One Taint, being Author of a Number, still.And thus (resolu'd to leaue his hallow'd Hill)First, both the fat parts, and the fleshie, AllTaking away; at the steepe-entry'd stallHe laid all; All, the feet and heads entire;And all the sere-wood; making cleare with fire.And now, he leauing there then, all things doneAnd finisht, in their fit perfection;(The Coles put out; and their black Ashes throwneFrom all discouerie, by the louely lightThe cherefull Moone cast; shyning all the Night)He strait assum'd a nouell voices note;And in the whirle-pit-eating-flood, afloteHe set his sandalls. When now, once againe The-that-morne-borne-Cyllenius, did attaineHis Homes diuine height; all the farr-stretcht waieNo one blest God, encountring, his assaie;Nor Mortall Man; nor any Dogg durst spendHis-borne-to-barke-mouth at him; till, in th'end,He reacht his Caue; and at the Gate went inCrooked, and wrapt into a fold so thin,That no eye could discouer his repayre;But as a darknesse, of th'Autumnall ayre.When going on; fore-right; he straie arriu'dAt his rich Phane: his soft feet quite depriu'dOf all least noise, of one that trod the earth;They trod so swift to reach his roome of Birth.Where, In his swath-hands, he his shoulders wrapt,And (like an Infant, newly hauing scap'tThe teeming streights) as in the Palms he layOf his lou'd Nurse. Yet instantly would play(Freeing his right hand) with his bearing clothAbout his knees wrapt; and strait (loosing bothHis right and left hand) with his left, he caughtHis most-lou'd Lute. His Mother yet, was taughtHis wanton wiles; nor could a Gods wit lieHis from a Goddesse; who did therefore tryeHis answer, thus: Why (thou made all of sleight)And whence ariu'st thou, in this rest of Night?Improuident Impudent; In my conceiptThou rather shouldst be getting forth thy Gate,With all flight fit, for thy engander'd State; (In merit of th'Ineuitable bands,To be impos'd by vext Latona's handsIustly incenst for her Apollo's harms)Thenly thus wrapt, as ready for her arms,To take thee vp, and kisse thee: Would to heauen,(In crosse of that high grace) Thou hadst beene giuenVp to Perdition; ere poore mortalls beareThose blacke banes, that thy father ThundererHath planted thee of purpose to confer,On them, and Deities. He return'd replie;As Master of the feates of Policie;Mother? why ayme you thus amisse at me?As if I were a Sonne that InfancieCould keepe from all the skill, that Age can teach?Or bad in cheating, but a childish reach?And of a Mothers mandats, fear'd the breach?I mount that Art at first; that will be bestWhen all times consummate their cunningest.Able to counsaile, Now my selfe, and thee,In all things best, to all Eternitie.We cannot liue like Gods here, without gifts;No, nor without corruption, and shifts.And much lesse, without eating; as we mustIn keeping thy rules, and in being Iust;Of which we cannot undergoe the lodes.Tis better here, to Imitate the Gods,And wine, or wench out all times Periods;To that end, growing rich in readie heapes; Stor'de with Reuennews; being in corne-fielde reapesOf infinite Acres; then to liue enclos'dIn Caues, to all Earths sweetest ayre expos'd.I, as much honor hold, as Phœbus does,And if my Father please not to disposePossessions to me; I my selfe will seeIf I can force them in, for I can bePrince of all Theeues. And if Latona's SonneMake after my stealth, Indignation;I'le haue a Scape, as well as he a Serch,And ouertake him with a greater lurch.For I can post to Pythos; and breake through,His huge house, there; where harbors wealth enough;Most precious Tripods; Caldrons; Steele, and Gold;Garments rich wrought; and full of liberall fold:All which will I, at pleasure owne; and thowShalt see all; wilt thou but thy sight bestow. Thus chang'd great words; the Gote-byde-wearers Sonne,And Maia, of Maiestique fashion. And now the Ayre-begot Aurora roseFrom out the Ocean-great-in-ebbs-and flows;When, at the neuer-shorne, pure-and-faire Groue,(Onchestus) consecrated to the loueOf round and long-neckt Neptune; Phœbus foundA man whom heauie yeares, had prest halfe round;And yet at worke, in plashing of a FenceAbout a Vineyeard; that had residenceHard by the high-way; whom Latona's Sonne, Made it not strange, but first did question,And first saluted: Ho? you? Aged syreThat here are hewing from the Vine, the Bryre;For certaine Oxen, I come here t'enquireOut of Pieria; femalls All; and rer'dAll, with hornes wreath'd, unlike the common Herde;A Cole-black Bull, fed by them all alone;And all obseru'd for preseruationThrough all their foodie, and delicious Fen;With foure fierce Mastifs, like one-minded men.These left their Doggs, and Bull; (which I admire)And when was nere set, Daies eternall fire;From their fierce Guardians; from their delicate fare,Made clere departure. To me then declare;(O ould man, long since borne) If thy graue raieHath any man seene, making stealthfull waieWith all those Oxen! Th'olde man made replie;Tis hard (O friend) to render readily,Account of all, that may inuade mine eye;For many a Trauailer, this high-way tredds;Some in much ills serch; some, in noble threddsLeading their liues out; but I, this young DayEuen from her first point, haue made good display,Of all men, passing this abundant hill,Planted with Vines; and no such stealthfull ill,Her light hath showne me: But last Euening late,I sawe a Thing, that shew'd of childish state;To my ould lights; and seem'd as he pursude A Herd of Oxen, with braue Heads indude;Yet but an Infant; and retainde a Rodd;Who warilie, both this, and that way trodd,His head still backwards turn'd. This th'ould Man spake;Which he well thought vpon; and swiftly brakeInto his Pursuit, with abundant wing;That strooke but one plaine; ere he knew the thingThat was the Theefe; to be th'Impostor borne;Whom Ioue yet, with his Sonnes name did adorne.In studie, and with Ardor, then the King(Ioues dazeling Sonne) plac't his exploring wingOn sacred Pylos, for his forced Heard;His ample shoulders, in a cloud ensphear'dOn fierie chrimsine. Strait, the steps he foundOf his stolne Head: And said; Strange sights confoundMy apprehensiue powers: for here I seeThe Tracts of Oxen; but auersiuelieConuerted towards the Pierian Hills,As tredding to their Meade of Daffodills:But, nor mine eye, Mens feet, nor Womens drawes;Nor hoarie Wolues; nor Beares; nor Lyons Paws,Nor thick-necks Bulls they show. But hee that does,These monstrous Deeds, with neuer so swift shooes;Hath past from that howre hither; but from hence,His foule course, may meete, fouler consequence.With this, tooke Phœbus wing; and Hermes still,(For all his Threats) secure lay in his HillWall'd with a woodd; and more, a Rock, beside Where a Retreat rann, deepely multiplideIn blinding shadows; and where th'endlesse Bride;Bore to Saturnius, his Ingenious Sonne:An Odor, worth a Hearts desire, being throwne,Along the Heauen-sweet Hill; on whose Herb, fedd,Rich flocks of sheepe, that bow not where they treddTheir horney Pasterns. There, the light of Men,(Ioues Sonne Apollo) strait descended then,The Marble Pauement, in that gloomie Den.On whom, when Ioue, and Maia's Sonne set eye,Wroth for his Oxen: On then, instantlyHis Odorous swarth-hands, flew; in which, as closeTh'Impostor lay; As in the coole reposeOf cast-on Ashes, Harths of burning ColesLy in the woods hidd, vnder the ControulesOf skilfull Colyers: Euen so close did lieInscrutable Hermes in Apollo's eye.Contracting his great God-head, to a smallAnd Infant likenesse; feet, hands, head and All.And as a Hunter hath beene often viewd,From Chace retir'd with both his hands embrewdIn his Games blood; that doth for water callTo clense his hands; And to prouoke withallDelightsome sleepe; new washt and laid to rest;So now lay Hermes in the close comprestChace of his Oxen. His New-found-out Lute;Beneath his arme held: As if no pursuiteBut that Prise, and the virtue of his play, His heart affect. But to Phœbus, lay,His close Heart, open: And he, likewise, knewThe braue Hyll-Hymph there; and her deare Sonne, new-Borne; and as well wrapt, in his wiles, as weed's.All the close shroud's too, for his Rapinous deedes,In All the Caue, he knew: and with his keyHe open'd three of them; In which there laySiluer, and Gold-heapes; Nectar infinite store;And Deare Ambrosia; and of weedes she wore,(Pure white, and Purple) A rich Wardrobe shin'de;Fir for the blest States, of powrs so diuin'de.All which discouerd; Thus to MercurieHe offerd Conference: Infant? you that lieWrapt so in swath-bands; Instantly unfoldIn what conceald Retreats of yours you holdMy Oxen stolne by you; Or strait we shallIarr, as beseemes not, powrs Celestiall.For I will take, and hurle Thee to the DeepesOf dismall Tartarus; where ill Death keepesHis gloomie, and inextricable fates;And to no Eye, that light Illuminates,Mother, nor Father, shall returne thee free,But vnder Earth, shall Sorrow fetter thee,And few repute thee, their Superiour. On him replied, Crafts subtlest Counsailor;What cruell speech, hath past Latona's Care!Seekes he his stolne-wilde-Cows, where Deities are?I haue nor seene, nor heard; nor can report; From others mouthes, one word of their resortTo any stranger. Nor will I, to gaineA base Reward, a false Relation faine.Nor would I; Could I tell. Resemble IAn Ox-Theefe? Or a Man? EspeciallieA man of such a courage; such a forceAs to that labour goes? That violent course?Nor Infants worke is That. My powres aspireTo sleepe, and quenching of my huners fireWith Mothers Milke; and gainst cold shades, to armeWith Cradle-cloths, my shoulders; and Baths warme;That no man may conceiue, the warr you threatCan spring, in cause, from my so peacefull heat.And euen amongst th'Immortalls it would beareEuent of absolute Miracle, to heareA new-borne Infants forces should transcendThe limits of his Dores; much lesse contendWith untam'd Oxen. This speech nothing seemesTo sauour the Decorum of the BeamesCast round about the Ayre Apollo breakes,Where his diuine minde, her intention speakes.I brake but yesterday, the blessed wombe;My feet are tender, and the common TombeOf men, (the Earth) lies sharpe beneath their tred.But, (if you please) euen by my Fathers headI'le take the great Oath; That nor I protestMy selfe, to Author on your InterestAny such usurpation; Nor haue I Seene any other, that felloniouslyHath forc't your Oxen. Strange thing! what are thoseOxen of yours? Or what are Oxen? knewsMy rude minde, thinke you? My eares onely touchAt their renowne; and heare that there are such. This speech he past; and euer as he spakeBeames from the hayre, about his eye-lidds brake;His eye-brows, vp, and downe cast; and his eyeEuery way look't, askans, and careleslie.And he, into a loftie whistling fell;As if he idle thought, Apollo's spell. Apollo (gently smiling) made Replie;O thou Impostor! whose thoughts euer lyeIn labour with Deceipt! For certaine, IRetaine Opinon; that thou, (euen thus soone)Hast ransackt, many a House; and not in oneNights-worke alone; nor in one Countries neitherHast beene beseeging, House and Man togehter;Rigging, and rifeling all waies; and no NoiseMade with thy soft feete, where it all destroies.Soft therefore, well; and tender thou maist callThe feet that thy stealths, goe, and fly withall.For many a field-bredd Herdsman, (unheard still)Hast thou made drowne, the Cauerns of the HillWhere his Retreates lie, with his helplesse teares;When any flesh-stealth thy desire end cares;And thou encountrest, either flocks of sheepeOr Herds of Oxen! vp then! doe not sleepe Thy last Nap, in thy Cradle; but come downe;(Companion of black Night) and for this CrowneOf thy young Rapines; beare (from all) the stateAnd stile of Prince Theefe, into endlesse Date. This said; he tooke the Infant in his Armes;And with him, the remembrance of his harmes;This Præsage utt'ring; lifting him aloft;Be euer more, the miserablie-softSlaue of the bellie; Pursuiuant of allAnd Author, of all mischiefs Capitall. He scorn'd his Prophesie so; he Nees'd in's faceMost forciblie (which hearing) his embraceHe loth'd; and hurl'd him gainst the ground; yet stillTooke seate before him; though, (with all the illHe bore by him) he would haue left full faineThat Hewer of his heart, so into twaine.Yet salu'd all thus; Come! (you so swadl'd thing;Issue of Maia, and the Thunders King;Be confident; I shall hereafter findeMy brode-browd Oxen. My Prophetique mindeSo farr from blaimg this thy course; that I,Foresee thee, (in it,) to PosteritieThe guide of All Men, (All waies,) to their ends. This spoken; Hermes, from the Earth Ascends;Starting Aloft; and as in Studie went;Wrapping himselfe, in his Integument;And thus askt Phœbus; Whither force you Me(Farr-shot; and farr most powrefull Deitie.) I know (for all your fayning) y'are still wroth,About your Oxen; and suspect my Troth.O Iupiter: I wish the generall RaceOf all Earths Oxen, rooted from her face.I steale your Oxen? I againe, professeThat neither, I, haue stolne them; nor can ghesseWho else should steale them. What strange Beasts are theseYour so-lou'd Oxen? I must say (to pleaseYour humor thus farr) that euen My few HoowresHaue heard their fame. But be the sentence yoursOf the Debate betwixt us; Or to Ioue(For more indifferencie) the Cause remoue. Thus when the Solitude-affecting God,And the Latonian seede, had laid abroad;All things betwixt them; (though not yet agreed;Yet, might I speake) Apollo did proceedeNothing uniustly, to charge MercurieWith stealing of the Cows, he does denie.But his Profession was, with filed speach,And Crafts faire Complements, to ouerreachAll; And euen Phœbus. Who because he knewHis Trade of subtletie; He still at viewHunted his Foe, through all the sandie waieUp to Olympus. Nor would let him straieFrom out his sight; but kept behinde him still. And now they reacht, the Odoriferous HillOf high Olympus, to their Father Ioue,To Arbitrate the Cause, in which they stroue. Where, before both; Talents of iustice werePropos'd for him, whom Ioue should sentence Clere,In cause of their contention. And nowAbout Olympus, (euer-crown'de with snow)The rumor of their controuersie flew.All the Incorruptible, to their view,On heauens steepe Mountaine, made return'd repaire. Hermes and He, that light hurls through the ayre;Before the Thunderers knees stood: who begunn,To question thus farr, his Illustrious Sonne:Phœbus: To what end bringst thou Captiue hereHim in whom my Minde, putts delights so deare?This New-borne Infant? that the place suppliesOf Herrald yet, to all the Deities?This serious busines, you may witnesse, drawesThe Deities whole Court, to discusse the cause. Phœbus replied: And not vnworthie isThe cause, of all the Court of Deities.For you shall heare, it comprehends the weightOf Deuastation; and the verie heightOf spoile, and rapine, euen of Deities rights.Yet you (as if my selfe lou'd such delights)Vse words that wound my heart. I bring you hereAn Infant, that, euen now, admits no PereIn rapes and robb'ries. Finding out, his Place,(After my measure of an infinite space)In the Cyllenian Mountaine. Such a oneIn all the Art of opprobration, As not in all the Deities, I haue seene;Nor in th'Obliuion-marckt-whole Race of men.In Night, he draue my Oxen from their Leas;Along the loftie rore-resounding Seas:From out the Rode-way quite: the steps of themSo quite transpos'd, as would amaze the beameOf any mindes eye: being so infinite muchInuolu'd in doubt; as showd a Deified touchWent to the works performance. All the wayThrough which, my corss-hou'd Cows hee did conuaie,Had dust so darklie-hard to serch; and HeSo past all measure, wrapt in subtiltie.For, nor with feet, nor hands, he form'd his steps,In passing through the drie waies sandie heap's:But vs'd another counsaile to keepe hiddHis monstrous Tracts; that showd as one had slidOn Oke, or other Boughs; That swept out stillThe footsteps of his Oxen; and did fillTheir prints up euer; to the Daffodill(Or daintie feeding Meddow) as they trodd,Driuen by this cautelous, and Infant God. A Mortall Man yet, saw him driuing onHis Prey to Pylos. Which when he had doneAnd got his Passe sign'd, with a sacred fireIn peace; and freely (though to his desireNot to the Gods, he offerd part of theseMy rauisht Oxen) he retires, and liesLike to the gloomie Night in his dimm Denn, All hid in darknesse; and in clouts againe,Wrapt him so closely; that the sharpe-seene eyeOf your owne Eagle, could not see him lye.For with his hands, the ayre he rarified(This way, and that mou'd) till bright gleames did glideAbout his Being; that if any eyeShould dare the Darknesse; Light appos'd so nieMight blinde it quite, with her Antipathie.Which wile he woue, in curious care t'illudeThe'Extreame of any eye, that could intrude.On which relying, he outrageouslie(When I accus'd him) trebled his replie;I did not see; I did not heare; nor IWill tell at all; that any other stoleYour brode-browd Beeues. Which an Impostors souleWould soone haue done; and any Author faineOf purpose onely, a Reward to gaine.And thus he colourd truth, in euery lie. This saud; Apollo sate; and Mercurie,The Gods Commander, pleas'd with this replie.Father! I'le tell the truth; (for I am trueAnd farr from Art to lie.) He did pursueEuen to my Caue, his Oxen: this selfe daie;The Sunn, new raising his illustrious raie.But brought with him, none of the Bliss-indu'd,Nor any ocular witnesse, to conclude,His bare assertion. But his owne commandLaid on with strong, and necessarie hand, To showe his Oxen. Using Threats to castMy poore, and Infant powrs, into the VastOf ghastlie Tartarus; because he bearesOf strength-sustayning youth, the flaming yeares.And I, but yesterday produc't to lightBy which, it fell into his owne fre sightThat I, in no similitude apper'dOf powre to be the forcer of a Herde.And credite me (O Father, since the GraceOf that name, in your stile, you please to place)I draue not home his Oxen, no nor preastPast mine owne threshold; for tis manifest,I reuerence, with my soule, the Sunn; and allThe knowing dwellers, in this heauenly Hall.Loue you; obserue the least: and tis most cleareIn your owne knowledge, that my Merits beareNo least guilt of his blame. To all which, I,Dare adde, heauens great oath, boldly swearing byAll these so well-built Entries of the Blest.And therefore when I saw my selfe so prestWith his reproches; I confesse I burn'dIn my pure gall; and harsh replie return'd.Adde your aid to your Yonger then; and freeThe scruple fixt in Phœbus Ielousie. This said; he winckt upon his Mire; and stillHis swath-hands, held beneath his arme; no WillDiscernd in him, to hide, but haue them showne. Ioue laught aloud at his Ingenious Sonne, Quitting himselfe with Art, so likely wrought,As showd in his heart, not a rapinous thought.Commanding Both, to beare attoned mindesAnd seeke out th'Oxen; In which serch he bindesHermes to play the Guide; and show the Sunn(All grudge exilde) the Shrowd to which he wunnHis fayre-eyd Oxen. Then; his forehead bow'dFor signe it must be so; and Hermes show'dHis free obedience. So soone, he enclin'dTo his perswasion, and command, his minde. Now then, Ioues Iarring Sonnes, no longer stood;But sandie Pylos, and th'Alphæan floodReacht instantly; and made as quick a fallOn those rich-feeding fields, and loftie stallWhere Phœbus Oxen, Hermes safelie kept;Driuen in, by night. When sodainely he steptUp to the stonie Caue; and into lightDraue forth the Oxen Phœbus at first sightKnew them the same: and saw apart dispreadVpon a high-rais'd rock; the hydes new fleadOf th'Oxen sacrifis'd. Then Phœus said;O thou in craftie counsailes vndisplaid!How couldst thou cut the throtes, and cast to EarthTwo such huge Oxen? being so young a birth,And a mere Infant? I admire thy forceAnd will, behinde thy back. But this swift courseOf growing into strength, thou hadst not needContinue any long Date, O thou seed Of honor'd Maia! Hermes, (to shew howHe did those Deedes) did forthwith cut and bowStrong Osiers in soft folds; and strappl'd straitOne of his hugest Oxen: all his weightLay'ng prostrate on the earth, at Phœbus feet:All his foure clouen houes, easly made to greeteEach other upwards; all, together brought.In all which bands yet, all the Beasts powres wroughtTo rise, and stand; when all the Herd aboutThe mighty Hermes, rusht in, to help outTheir fellow from his fetters; Phœbus viewOf al this, vp to Admiration drewEuen his high forces: And sterne lookes he threwAt Hermes for his Herds wrong; and the placeTo which he had retir'd them; being in graceAnd fruitfull riches of it, so entire:All which, set all his force, on enuious fire.All whose heat, flew out of his eyes in flames:Which faine he would haue hidd, to bide the shamesOf his ill gouern'd passions. But with easeHermes could calme them; and his humors pleaseStill at his pleasure; where he ne're so greatIn force, and fortitude; and high in heat.In all which, he his Lute tooke; and assaidA Song upon him; and so strangely plaid;That from his hand, a rauishing horror flew.Which Phœbus, into laughter turn'd; and grewPleasant past measure; Tunes so artfull clere Strooke euen his heart-strings; & his minde, made beare.His Lute so powerfull was, in forcing loue;(As his hand rul'd it) that from him it droueAll feare of Phœbus; yet he haue him stillThe upper hand; and (to aduance his skill)To utmost Miracle; he plaid sometimes,Single awhile; In which, when all they ClymesOf rapture he had reacht; (to make the SunnAdmire enough) O then, his voice would runnSuch points vpon his play; and did so moue,They tooke Apollo Prisoner to his loue.And now the deathlesse Gods, and deathfull EarthHe sung; beginning, at their eithers Birth,To full extent of all their Emperie.And, first; the honor to Mnemosyne(The Muses Mother) of all Goddesse statesHe gaue; euen forc't too't, by the equall fates.And then (as it did in Prioritie fallOf Age, and Birth) He celebrated All.And with such Elegance, and Order sung;(His Lute still toucht, to stick more off his tongue)That Phœbus heart, with infinite loue, he eate.Who therefore thus, did his Deserts entreate: Master of Sacrifice! chiefe soule of feast?Patient of all paines? Artizan so blest;That all things thou canst doe, in any One.Worth fiftie Oxen is th'InuentionOf this one Lute. We both, shall now; I hope; In firme peace, worke, to all our wishes scape.Informe me, (thou that euery way canst winde,And turne to Act, all wishes of thy minde)Together with thy birth, came all thy skill?Or did some God, or God-like man instillThis heauenly song to thee? Me thinks I heareA new voice; such as neuer yet came nereThe brest of any; either Man, or God,Till in thee, it had Prime, and Period.What Art? what Muse? that medcine can produceFor cares most curelesse? what inueterate use;Or practise of a virtue so profuse,(Which three, doe all the contribution keepsThat Ioy, or Loue conferrs, or pleasing Sleepe)Taught thee the soueraigne facture of them all?I, of the Muses, am the capitallConsort, or followers: (and to these belongThe grace of dance; all worthie waies of song;and euer-florishing verse: the delicate SetAnd sound of Instruments.) But neuer yetDid anything so much affect my mindeWith ioy, and care to compasse; as this kindeOf Song and Play: that for the spritely feastOf florishing assemblies, are the bestAnd ablest works, that euer Worth gaue Act.My powres with admiration stand distract,To heare, with what a hand to make in loue,Thou ruest thy Lute. And (though thy yongst bowres moue,) At full art, in ould counsailes. Here I vow(Euen by this Cornell Dart, I use to throw)To thee, and to thy Mother; He make theeAmongst the Gods, of glorious degree.Guide of Mens waies, and Theirs. And will impartTo thee, the mightie Imperatorie Art:Bestowe rich gifts on thee; and in the endNeuer deceuive thee. Hermes (as a friendThat wrought on all aduantage; and made gaineHis Capitall obiect) that did entertainePhœbus Apollo: Doe thy Dignities(Farr-working God; and circularlie wise)Demand my vertues? without enuie IWill teach thee to ascend my facultie.And this Day thou shalt reach it; finding me,In Acts and Counsailes, all waies kinde to thee;As one that all things knows; And first tak'st seatAmongst th'Immortalls; being good, and great.And therefore to Ioues loue, mak'st free accesse,Euen out of his accomplisht Holinesse.Great gifts, he likewise giues thee; who (fame saies)Hast wunn thy greatnesse, by his will: his waies.By him know'st all the powers Propheticall(O thou farr-worker) and the fates of all.Yea; and I know thee rich; yet apt to learne:And euen thy Wish, dost but discerne, and earne.And since thy soule, so burns to know the wayTo play and sing as I doe: sing, and play. Play; and perfection in thy play employ;And be thy care, to learne things good; thy Joy.Take thou my Lute (My Loue) and giue thou me,The glorie of so great a facultie.This sweet-tun'd consort; held but in thy hand;Sing; and perfection in thy song command.For thou, alreadie, hast the way to speakeFayrely, and elegantly; and to breakeAll eloquence into thy utterd minde.One gift from heauen found, may another finde.Use then, securely, this thy gift; and goeTo feasts, and dances, that enamour so;And to that couetous sport of getting flory,That Day, nor Night, will suffer to be sory.Whoeuer, does but say, in verse; sings still:Which he that can; of any other skillIs capable; so he be taught by Art,And wisedome; and can speake, at euery partThings pleasing to an understanding Minde:And such a one, that seekes this Lute, shall finde.Him still it teaches easely, though he plaiesSoft voluntaries onely; and assaiesAs wanton, as the sports of children are.And (euen when he aspires to singularIn all the Mast'ries he shall play or sing)Findes the whole worke, but an vnhappie thing:He (I say) sure; shall of this Lute be King.But he; whoeuer, rudely sets upon, Of this Lutes skill, th'Inquest, or Question;Neuer so ardently, and angrilie;Without the aptnesse, and habilitieOf Art; and Nature sitting: neuer shallAspire to this; but vtter triuiallAnd idle accents; though sure ne're so lowd,And neuer so commended of the Crowde.But thee I know (O Eminent Sonne of Ioue)The fiery Learner, of what euer LoueHath sharpn'd thy affections to achiue.And thee, I giue this Lute; let us now liueFeeding vpon the Hill-and-horse-fed EarthOur neuer-handled Oxen: whose deare Birth(Their femalls fellowd with their Males) let floweIn store enough hereafter; nor must you(How-euer-cunning hearted your wits are)Boile in your Gall, a Grudge too circulare. Thus gaue he him his Lute; which he embrac't;And gaue againe, a Gode, whose bright head castBeames like the light forth; leauing to his careHis Oxens keeping. Which, with ioy full fare,He tooke on him. The Lute Apollo tookeInto his left hand; and aloft he shookeDelightsome sounds up; to which God did sing. Then were the Oxen, to their endlesse SpringTurn'd; and Ioues Two illustrious Off-springs flewVp to Olympus, where it euer snew;Delighted with their Lutes sound all the way. Whom Ioue, much ioi'd to see; and endlesse stayGaue to their knot of friendship. From which date,Hermes gaue Phœbus, an eternall stateIn his affection: whose sure pledge and signeHis Lute was; and the Doctrine so diuine,Jointly conferd on him. Which well might beTrue Symbole of his Loues simplicitie. On th'other part; Apollo, in his friendForm'd th'Art of Wisedome; to the binding endOf his vow'd friendship; and (for further meede)Gaue him the farr-heard fistularie Reede. For all these forms of friendship, Phœbus yetFeard that both forme, and substance were not mettIn Mercurie's intentions: and, in plaine,Said, (since he saw him, borne to craft and gaine;And that Ioues will had him the honor done,To change at his will, the possessionOf others Gods) he fear'd his breach of of vowes,In stealing both his Lute, and comming Bowes.And therefore wisht, that what the Gods affect,Himselfe would witnesse; and to his requestHis head Bow; swearing by th'Impetuous floodOf Styx; that of his whole possessions, not a GoodHe would diminish; but therein maintaineThe full content, in which his Minde did raigne.And then did Maia's Sonne, his fore-head bow:Making, by all that he desir'd, his vow:Neuer to pray more vpon any Thing, In iust possession of the farr-shot King;Nor euer to come neare, a House of his. Latonian Phœbus, bowd his Brow to this,With his like promise; say'ng, Not any OneOf all the Gods, nor any Man, that, SonneIs to Saturnius; is more deare to me;More trusted, nor mor honord, is then thee.Which, yet, with greater Gifts of Deitie,In future I'le confirme; and giue thy stateA Rodd that riches shall accumulate;Not leaue the bearer, thrall to Death, or fateOr any sicknesse. All of Gods it is;Three-leau'd; and full of all felicities.And this shall be thy Guardian; this shall giueThe Gods to thee, in all the truth they liue.And finally, shall this the Tutresse beOf all the words, and workes, informing meFrom Ioues high counsailes; making knowne to theeAll my instructions. But to Prophesie(O best of Ioues belou'd) and that high skill;Which to obtaine, lies burning in thy will;Nor thee, nor any God, will Fate let learne.Onely Ioues minde, hath insight to discerneWhat that importeth; yet am I allowd(My knowne faith trusted; and my forhead bowd;Our great Oath taken, to resolue to noneOf all th'Immortalls, the restrictionOf that deepe knowledge) of it All, the Minde. Since then it sits, in such fast bounds confinde,(O Brother) when the Golden rodd is heldIn thy strong hand; seeke not to haue reueal'dAny sure fate, that Ioue will haue conceald.For no man shall, by know'ng, preuent his fate;And therefore will I hold, in my free stateThe powre, to hurt and helpe, what man I will,Of all the greatest; or least toucht with ill;That walke within the Circle of mine eye;In all the Tribes, and Sexes, it shall trye. Yet, truely, any man shall haue his willTo reape the fruites of my Prophetique skill;Whoeuer seekes it, by the voice, or wingOf Birds, borne truely, such euents to sing.Nor will I falsly, nor with fallaciesInfringe the truth, on which his faith relies;But he that Truths, in chattering plumes would finde;(Quite opposite to them, that prompt my Minde,)And learne by naturall forgers of vaine lyes,The more-then-euer-certaine Deities;That man shall Sea-waies tred, that leaue no Tracts;And false, or no guide finde, for all his facts.And yet will I, his Gifts accept as wellAs his; to whom, the simple truth I tell. One other thing to thee, I'le yet make knowne(Maia's exceedingly renowned sonneAnd Ioues; and of the Gods whole sessionThe most ingenious Genius.) There dwell Within a Crooked Crannie, in a DellBeneath Parnassus; certaine sisters borne,Call'd Parcæ; whom extreame swift wings adorne;Their Number three; that haue upon their headsWhite Barly floure still sprinckled; and are maids,And these are schoole-Mistresses of things to come,Without the gift of Prophecie: of whom(Being but a boy, and keeping Oxen, nere)I learn'd their skill; though my great Father wereCareles of it, or them. These flying from home,To others roofes; and fedd with Hony-come,Command all skill; and (being enraged then)Will freely tell the Truths of things to Men.But if they giue them not, that Gods sweete meat;They then are apt, to vtter their deceit,And leade Men from their way. And these will IGiue thee hereafter; when their scrutinieAnd truth; thou hast both made, and learn'd, and then;Please thy selfe with them; and the Race of men(Wilt thou know any) with thy skill endeare:Who will, (be sure) afford it greedie eare;And heare it often, it if proue sincere. Take these (O Maia's Sonne) and in thy care,Be Horse, and Oxen: all such Men as arePatient of labour; Lyons; white-tooth'd Bores;Mastifs, and flocks, that feede the flowrie shores;And euery foure-foot Beast: all which shall standIn awe of thy high Imperatory hand. Be thou to Dis too, sole Ambassador;Who (though all gifts, and bounties he abhor)On thee he will bestowe, a wealthie One. Thus King Apollo, honor'd Maia's Sonne,With all the rights of friendship: all whose loueHad Imposition, from the Will of Ioue. And thus, with Gods and Mortalls Hermes liu'd;Who truely helpt but few; but all deceiu'dWith an undifferencing respect; and madeUsine words, and false perswasions his Trade.His Deeds, were all associats of the Night;In which, his close wrongs, car'd for no mans Right. So all salutes to Hermes, that are due;Of whom, and all Gods, shall my Muse sing true.