At this, the casments of the skye broke ope,
Discouering all what's girdled in her frame,
Whilst Happy-fortune through her eyes large scope
Like a Cosmographer comments on the same;
Three parts with praise she past and future hope,
Then to the fourth, the Westerne world she came,
And there, with her eyes festrawe paints a storie,
Stranger than strange, more glorified than glorie.
See (sayd Faire-fortune, to her soule shapt Foe)
How on the scourge that beates against the Ile
Of Flores, whence they curst oblations growe,
A winde-taught capring ship which ayre beguiles,
(Making poore Cephalus for-lorne with woe,
Curse arte, which made arte framed saile such smiles)
Richlie imbrodred with the Iems of warre,
In thy dispight commaunds a lucky starrye.
In that faire vessel liues my garlands flower.
Grinuile, my harts immortall arterie;
Of him thy deitie had neuer power,
Nor hath hee had of griefe one simpathie;
Successe attends him, all good hap doth shower
A golden raine of perpetuitie
Into his bossome, whete mine Empire stands,
Murdring the Agents of thy blacke commands.
Say, and say true, (for what but thou wilt say,)
That euer Grinuils fortunes came before thee,
Of euer prostrate at thine Altars lay,
Or with one wreath of Cipresse did adore thee?
Proue one blacke storme in all his Sommers day,
Whose threatening clouds compeld him to implore thee.
Then wil I staine my milkwhite vaile with weeping,
And as thine handmaide dye in sorrowes keeping.
As wounds the lightning, yet preserues the skinne,
So did these words split Lucklesse-fortunes hart,
Her smiling Superficies, lockt within
A deepe exulcerated festring smart;
Heere shee perceiu'd her first disgrace begin,
And wordlesse from the heauens takes her depart.
Yet as she flewe her wings in flying cri'd
On Grinuile shall my fame and power be tride.
At her departure all the heauens were glad.
Triumphing in Ill-fortunes banishment,
Apollo set new Anthems as Ioue bad,
Which spheare tunes made more then most excellent;
No light in heauen but with new fier was clad,
Making next Ioue, Good-fortune president,
Enrowling in the Bookes of destenie,
This memorable famous victorie.
Only the Fat's su'd for her backe repeale,
(For they Ill-fortune lou'd exceeding well)
Many her deedes and Tropheis they reueale,
And all her liues blacke legend, weeping tell;
Yet all they speake, cannot in heauen preuaile,
Which seene, in spight they follow her to hell,
And there inhoused with their mother Night,
All foure deuise, how heauen and earth to spight.
Hence sprang the loues of Ioue, the Sonnes exile,
The shame of Mars and Venus in a net;
Iunos forsaken bed; Saturns compile
Of frantike discontentment, which beset
All heauen with armes; Diana hence had while
To court her sleeping boy; whilst Thetis let
Phoebus imbrace her in her Neptunes stead,
Who made complaints, breach of his bridall bed:
Yet not content with these disparagments,
Much greater mischiefes issues from their minds,
Grinuile, thy mountaine honour it augments
Within their breasts, a Meteor like the winds,
Which thrall'd in earth, a reeling issue rents
With violent motion; and their wills combinds
To belch their hat's, vow'd murdrers of thy fame,
Which to effect, thus they begin the same.
Fast to Iberia flies vntoward chaunce,
Iberia, which we vulgar Christen Spaine,
Vpon whose Sunne-burnt continent doth daunce
Westerne Ducallidon, the greatest maine,
Thither shee packs, Error doth their aduance
Her coale-blacke standerd in the hands of paine;
And as escapt from rauishment or bale,
With false teares, thus shee tunes a falser tale.