Which taking vp,

she

euery peece did lay
Vpon an Altar; where in youth of day
She vsde t'exhibite priuate Sacrifice :
Those would she offer to the Deities
Of her faire Goddesse, and her powerfull son,
As relicks of her late-felt passion:

And in that holy sort she vowd to end them,
In hope her violent fancies that did rend them,
Would as quite fade in her loues holy fire,
As they should in the flames she ment t'inspire.
Then put she on all her religious weedes,
That deckt her in her secret sacred deedes :
A crowne of Isickles, that sunne nor fire
Could euer melt, and figur'd chast desire.
A golden star shinde in her naked breast,
In honour of the Queene-light of the East.
In her right hand she held a siluer wand,
On whose bright top Peristera did stand,
Who was a Nymph, but now transformd a Doue,
And in her life was deare in Venus loue:

And for her sake she euer since that time, (blew clime.
Chusde Doues to draw her Coach through heauens
Her plentious haire in curled billowes swims
On her bright shoulder : her harmonious lims
Sustainde no more but a most subtile vaile
That hung on them, as it durst not assaile

Their different concord: for the weakest ayre
Could raise it swelling from her bewties fayre :
Nor did it couer, but adumbrate onelie
Her most heart-piercing parts, that a blest eie
Might see (as it did shadow) fearfullie,
All that all-loue-deseruing Paradise :

It was as blew as the most freezing skies,
Neere the Seas hew, for thence her Goddesse came :
On it a skarfe she wore of wondrous frame;
In midst whereof she wrought a virgins face,
From whose each cheeke a firie blush did chace
Two crimson flames, that did two waies extend,
Spreading the ample skarfe to either end,
Which figur❜d the diuision of her minde,
Whiles yet she rested bashfully inclinde,
And stood not resolute to wed Leander.
This seru'd her white neck for a purple sphere,
And cast it selfe at full breadth downe her back.
There (since the first breath that begun the wrack
Of her free quiet from Leanders lips)

She wrought a Sea in one flame full of ships :
But that one ship where all her wealth did passe
(Like simple marchants goods) Leander was :
For in that Sea she naked figured him;
Her diuing needle taught him how to swim,
And to each thred did such resemblance giue,

For

For ioy to be so like him, it did liue.
Things senceles liue by art, and rationall die,
By rude contempt of art and industrie.

Scarce could she work but in her strength of thought,
She feard she prickt Leander as she wrought:

And oft would shrieke so, that her Guardian frighted,
Would staring haste, as with some mischiefe cited.
They double life that dead things griefs sustayne:
They kill that feele not their friends liuing payne.
Sometimes she feard he sought her infamie,
And then as she was working of his eie,
She thought to pricke it out to quench her ill:
But as she prickt, it grew more perfect still.
Trifling attempts no serious acts aduance;

The fire of loue is blowne by dalliance.

In working his fayre neck she did so grace it,
She still was working her owne armes t'imbrace it:
That, and his shoulders, and his hands were seene
Aboue the streame, and with a pure Sea

greene

She did so queintly shadow euery lim,
All might be seene beneath the waues to swim.
In this conceited skarfe she wrought beside
A Moone in change, and shooting stars did glide
In number after her with bloodie beames,

Which figur'd her affects in their extreames,
Pursuing Nature in her Cynthian bodie,

And did her thoughts running on change implie :
For maids take more delights when they prepare

And thinke of wiues states, than when wiues they are.
Beneath all these she wrought a Fisherman,
Drawing his nets from forth that Ocean;
Who drew so hard ye might discouer well,
The toughned sinewes in his neck did swell:
His inward straines draue out his blood-shot eyes,
And springs of sweat did in his forehead rise:
Yet was of nought but of a Serpent sped,
That in his bosome flew and stung him dead.
And this by fate into her minde was sent,
Not wrought by meere instinct of her intent.
At the skarfs other end her hand did frame,
Neere the forkt point of the deuided flame,
A countrie virgin keeping of a Vine,
Who did of hollow bulrushes combine
Snares for the stubble-louing Grashopper,
And by her lay her skrip that nourisht her.
Within a myrtle shade she sate and sung,
And tufts of wauing reedes about her sprung:
Where lurkt two Foxes, that while she applide
Her trifling snares, their theeueries did deuide :
One to the vine, another to her skrip,
That she did negligently ouerslip:

By which her fruitfull vine and holesome fare

She

She suffred spoyld to make a childish snare.
These omenous fancies did her soule expresse,
And euery finger made a Prophetesse,

To shew what death was hid in loues disguise,
And make her iudgement conquer destinies.

O what sweet formes fayre Ladies soules doe shrowd,
Were they made seene & forced through their blood,
If through their beauties like rich work through lawn,
They would set forth their minds with vertues drawn,
In letting graces from their fingers flie,

To still their eyas thoughts with industrie :

That their plied wits in numbred silks might sing
Passions huge conquest, and their needels leading
Affection prisoner through their own-built citties,
Pinniond with stories and Arachnean ditties.

Proceed we now with Heros sacrifice;

She odours burnd, and from their smoke did rise
Vnsauorie fumes, that ayre with plagues inspired,
And then the consecrated sticks she fired,
On whose pale flame an angrie spirit flew,
And beate it downe still as it vpward grew.
The virgin Tapers that on th'altar stood,
When she inflam'd them burnd as red as blood:
All sad ostents of that too neere successe,
That made such mouing beauties motionlesse.
Then Hero wept; but her affrighted eyes

She