Metamorphoses

Ovid

Ovid. The XV bookes of P. Ouidius Naso, entytuled Metamorphosis. Golding, Arthur, translator. London: W. Seres (printer), 1567.

When Nestor of his pleasant tales had made this freendly end,
They called for a boll of wyne, and from the table went,
And all the resdew of the nyght in sleeping soundly spent.
But Neptune like a father tooke the matter sore to hart
That Cygnet to a Swan he was constreyned to convert.
And hating feerce Achilles, he did wreake his cruell teene
Uppon him more uncourteously than had beseeming beene.
For when the warres well neere full twyce fyve yeeres had lasted, hee
Unshorne Apollo thus bespake: O nevew, unto mee
Most deere of all my brothers impes, who helpedst mee to lay
Foundation of the walles of Troy for which we had no pay,
And canst thou syghes forbeare to see the Asian Empyre fall?
And dooth it not lament thy hart when thou to mynd doost call
So many thousand people slayne in keeping Ilion wall?
Or (too th'entent particlerly I doo not speake of all)
Remembrest thou not Hectors Ghost whoo harryed was about
His towne of Troy? where nerethelesse Achilles that same stout
And farre in fyght more butcherly, whoo stryves with all his myght
To stroy the woorke of mee and thee, lives still in healthfull plyght?
If ever hee doo come within my daunger he shall feele
What force is in my tryple mace. But sith with swoord of steele
I may not meete him as my fo, I pray thee unbeeware
Go kill him with a sodeine shaft and rid mee of my care.
Apollo did consent: as well his uncle for to please,
As also for a pryvate grudge himself had for to ease.
And in a clowd he downe among the host of Troy did slyde,
Where Paris dribbling out his shaftes among the Greekes hee spyde:
And telling him what God he was, sayd: Wherfore doost thou waast
Thyne arrowes on the simple sort? If any care thou haste
Of those that are thy freendes, go turne ageinst Achilles head,
And like a man revendge on him thy brothers that are dead.
In saying this, he brought him where Achilles with his brond
Was beating downe the Trojane folk, and leveld so his hond
As that Achilles tumbled downe starke dead uppon the lond.
This was the onely thing wherof the old king Priam myght
Take comfort after Hectors death. That stout and valeant knyght
Achilles whoo had overthrowen so many men in fyght,
Was by that coward carpet knyght beereeved of his lyfe,
Whoo like a caytif stale away the Spartane princes wyfe.
But if of weapon womanish he had foreknowen it had
His destnye beene to lose his lyfe, he would have beene more glad
That Queene Penthesileas bill had slaine him out of hand.
Now was the feare of Phrygian folk, the onely glory, and
Defence of Greekes, that peerelesse prince in armes, Achilles turnd
To asshes. That same God that had him armd, him also burnd.
Now is he dust: and of that great Achilles bydeth still
A thing of nought, that scarcely can a little coffin fill.
Howbee't his woorthy fame dooth lyve, and spreadeth over all
The world, a measure meete for such a persone to beefall.
This matcheth thee, Achilles, full. And this can never dye.
His target also (too th'entent that men myght playnly spye
What wyghts it was) did move debate, and for his armour burst
Out deadly foode. Not Diomed, nor Ajax Oylye durst
Make clayme or chalendge to the same, nor Atreus yoonger sonne,
Nor yit his elder, though in armes much honour they had wonne.
Alone the sonnes of Telamon and Laert did assay
Which of them two of that great pryse should beare the bell away.
But Agamemnon from himself the hurthen putts, and cleeres
His handes of envye, causing all the Capteines and the Peeres
Of Greece to meete amid the camp togither in a place,
To whom he put the heering and the judgement of the cace.

The Lordes and Capteynes being set toogither with the King,
And all the souldiers standing round about them in a ring,
The owner of the sevenfold sheeld, to theis did Ajax ryse.
And (as he could not brydle wrath) he cast his frowning eyes
Uppon the shore and on the fleete that there at Anchor lyes
And throwing up his handes: God and must wee plead (quoth hee)
Our case before our shippes? and must Ulysses stand with mee?
But like a wretch he ran his way when Hector came with fyre,
Which I defending from theis shippes did force him to retyre.
It easyer is therefore with woordes in print to maynteine stryfe,
Than for to fyght it out with fists. But neyther I am ryfe
In woordes, nor hee in deedes. For looke how farre I him excell
In battell and in feates of armes: so farre beares hee the bell
From mee in talking. Neyther think I requisite to tell
My actes among you. You your selves have seene them verry well.
But let Ulysses tell you his doone all in hudther mudther,
And wherunto the only nyght is privy and none other.
The pryse is great (I doo confesse) for which wee stryve. But yit
It is dishonour unto mee, for that in clayming it
So bace a persone standeth in contention for the same.
To think it myne already, ought to counted bee no shame
Nor pryde in mee: although the thing of ryght great valew bee
Of which Ulysses standes in hope. For now alreadye hee
Hath wonne the honour of this pryse, in that when he shall sit
Besydes the cuishon, he may brag he strave with mee for it.
And though I wanted valiantnesse, yit should nobilitee
Make with mee. I of Telamon am knowne the sonne to bee
Who under valeant Hercules the walles of Troy did scale,
And in the shippe of Pagasa to Colchos land did sayle.
His father was that Aeacus whoo executeth ryght
Among the ghostes where Sisyphus heaves up with all his myght
The massye stone ay tumbling downe. The hyghest Jove of all
Acknowledgeth this Aeacus, and dooth his sonne him call.
Thus am I Ajax third from Jove. Yit let this Pedegree,
O Achyves, in this case of myne avaylable not bee,
Onlesse I proove it fully with Achylles to agree.
He was my brother, and I clayme that was my brothers. Why
Shouldst thou that art of Sisyphs blood, and for to filch and lye
Expressest him in every poynt, by foorged pedegree
Aly thee to the Aeacyds, as though we did not see
Thee to the house of Aeacus a straunger for to bee?
And is it reason that you should this armour mee denye
Bycause I former was in armes, and needed not a spye
To fetch mee foorth? Or think you him more woorthye it to have,
That came to warrefare hindermost, and feynd himself to rave,
Bycause he would have shund the warre? untill a suttler head
And more unprofitable for himself, sir Palamed,
Escryde the crafty fetches of his fearefull hart, and drew
Him foorth a warfare which he sought so cowardly to eschew?
Must he now needes enjoy the best and richest armour, whoo
Would none at all have worne onlesse he forced were thertoo?
And I with shame bee put besyde my cousin germanes gifts
Bycause to shun the formest brunt of warres I sought no shifts?
Would God this mischeef mayster had in verrye deede beene mad,
Or else beleeved so to bee: and that wee never had
Brought such a panion unto Troy. Then should not Paeans sonne
In Lemnos like an outlawe to the shame of all us wonne.
Who lurking now (as men report) in woodes and caves, dooth move
The verry flints with syghes and grones, and prayers to God above
To send Ulysses his desert. Which prayer (if there bee
A God) must one day take effect. And now beehold how hee
By othe a Souldier of our Camp, yea and as well as wee
A Capteine too, alas, (who was by Hercules assignde
To have the keeping of his shafts,) with payne and hungar pynde,
Is clad and fed with fowles, and dribs his arrowes up and downe
At birds, which were by destinye preparde to stroy Troy towne.
Yit liveth hee bycause hee is not still in companie
With sly Ulysses. Palamed that wretched knyght perdie,
Would eeke he had abandond beene. For then should still the same
Have beene alyve: or at the least have dyde without our shame.
But this companion bearing (ah) too well in wicked mynd
His madnesse which sir Palamed by wisdome out did fynd,
Appeached him of treason that he practysde to betray
The Greekish hoste. And for to vouch the fact, he shewd streyght way
A masse of goold that he himself had hidden in his tent,
And forged Letters which he feynd from Priam to bee sent.
Thus eyther by his murthring men or else by banishment
Abateth hee the Greekish strength. This is Ulysses fyght.
This is the feare he puttes men in. But though he had more might
Than Nestor hath, in eloquence he shal not compasse mee
To think his leawd abandoning of Nestor for to bee
No fault: who beeing cast behynd by wounding of his horse,
And slowe with age, with calling on Ulysses waxing hoarce,
Was nerethelesse betrayd by him. Sir Diomed knowes this cryme
Is unsurmysde. For he himselfe did at that present tyme
Rebuke him oftentymes by name, and feercely him upbrayd
With flying from his fellowe so who stood in neede of ayd.
With ryghtfull eyes dooth God behold the deedes of mortall men.
Lo, he that helped not his freend wants help himself agen.
And as he did forsake his freend in tyme of neede: so hee
Did in the selfsame perrill fall forsaken for to bee.
He made a rod to beat himself. He calld and cryed out
Uppon his fellowes. Streight I came: and there I saw the lout
Bothe quake and shake for feare of death, and looke as pale as clout.
I set my sheeld betweene him and his foes, and him bestrid:
And savde the dastards lyfe. Small prayse redoundes of that I did.
But if thou wilt contend with mee, lets to the selfesame place
Agein: bee wounded as thou wart: and in the foresayd case
Of feare, beset about with foes: cowch underneath my sheeld:
And then contend thou with mee there amid the open feeld.
Howbee't, I had no sooner rid this champion of his foes,
But where for woundes he scarce before could totter on his toes,
He ran away apace, as though he nought at all did ayle.
Anon commes Hector to the feeld and bringeth at his tayle
The Goddes. Not only thy hart there (Ulysses) did thee fayle,
But even the stowtest courages and stomacks gan to quayle.
So great a terrour brought he in. Yit in the midds of all
His bloody ruffe, I coapt with him, and with a foyling fall
Did overthrowe him to the ground. Another tyme, when hee
Did make a chalendge, you my Lordes by lot did choose out mee,
And I did match him hand to hand. Your wisshes were not vayne.
For if you aske mee what successe our combate did obteine,
I came away unvanquished. Behold the men of Troy
Brought fyre and swoord, and all the feendes our navye to destroy.
And where was slye Ulysses then with all his talk so smooth?
This brest of myne was fayne to fence your thousand shippes forsooth,
The hope of your returning home. For saving that same day
So many shippes, this armour give. But (if that I shall say
The truth) the greater honour now this armour beares away.
And our renownes togither link. For (as of reason ought)
An Ajax for this armour, not an armour now is sought
For Ajax.

Let Dulychius match with theis, the horses whyght
Of Rhesus, dastard Dolon, and the coward carpetknyght
King Priams Helen, and the stelth of Palladye by nyght.
Of all theis things was nothing doone by day nor nothing wrought
Without the helpe of Diomed. And therefore if yee thought
To give them to so small deserts, devyde the same, and let
Sir Diomed have the greater part. But what should Ithacus get
And if he had them, who dooth all his matters in the dark,
Who never weareth armour, who shootes ay at his owne mark
To trappe his fo by stelth unwares? The very headpeece may
With brightnesse of the glistring gold his privie feates bewray
And shew him lurking. Neyther well of force Dulychius were
The weyght of great Achilles helme uppon his pate to weare.
It cannot but a burthen bee (and that ryght great) to beare
(With those same shrimpish armes of his) Achilles myghty speare.
Agen his target graven with the whole huge world theron
Agrees not with a fearefull hand, and cheefly such a one
As taketh filching even by kynd. Thou Lozell, thou doost seeke
A gift that will but weaken thee, which if the folk of Greeke
Shall give thee through theyr oversyght, it will be unto thee
Occasion, of thyne emnyes spoyld not feared for to bee,
And flyght (wherein thou, coward, thou all others mayst outbrag)
Will hindred bee when after thee such masses thou shalt drag.
Moreover this thy sheeld that feeles so seeld the force of fyght
Is sound. But myne is gasht and hakt and stricken thurrough quyght
A thousand tymes, with bearing blowes. And therfore myne must walk
And put another in his stead. But what needes all this talk?
Lets now bee seene another whyle what eche of us can doo.
The thickest of our armed foes this armour throwe into,
And bid us fetch the same fro thence. And which of us dooth fetch
The same away, reward yee him therewith. Thus farre did stretch
The woordes of Ajax. At the ende whereof there did ensew
A muttring of the souldiers, till Laertis sonne the prew
Stood up, and raysed soberly his eyliddes from the ground
(On which he had a little whyle them pitched in a stound)
And looking on the noblemen who longd his woordes to heere
He thus began with comly grace and sober pleasant cheere:
My Lordes, if my desyre and yours myght erst have taken place,
It should not at this present tyme have beene a dowtfull cace,
What person hath most ryght to this great pryse for which wee stryve.
Achilles should his armour have, and wee still him alyve.
Whom sith that cruell destinie to both of us denyes,
(With that same woord as though he wept, he wypte his watry eyes)
What wyght of reason rather ought to bee Achilles heyre,
Than he through whom to this your camp Achilles did repayre?
Alonly let it not avayle sir Ajax heere, that hee
Is such a dolt and grossehead, as he shewes himself to bee
Ne let my wit (which ay hath done you good, O Greekes) hurt mee.
But suffer this mine eloquence (such as it is) which now
Dooth for his mayster speake, and oft ere this hath spoke for yow,
Bee undisdeynd. Let none refuse his owne good gifts he brings.
For as for stocke and auncetors, and other such like things
Wherof our selves no fownders are, I scarcely dare them graunt
To bee our owne. But forasmuch as Ajax makes his vaunt
To bee the fowrth from Jove: even Jove the founder is also
Of my house: and than fowre descents I am from him no mo.
Laertes is my father, and Arcesius his, and hee
Begotten was of Jupiter. And in this pedegree
Is neyther any damned soule, nor outlaw as yee see.
Moreover by my moothers syde I come of Mercuree,
Another honor to my house. Thus both by fathers syde
And moothers (as you may perceyve) I am to Goddes alyde.
But neyther for bycause I am a better gentleman
Then Ajax by the moothers syde, nor that my father can
Avouch himself ungiltye of his brothers blood, doo I
This armour clayme. Wey you the case by merits uprightly,
Provyded no prerogatyve of birthryght Ajax beare,
For that his father Telamon, and Peleus brothers were.
Let only prowesse in this pryse the honour beare away.
Or if the case on kinrid or on birthryght seeme to stay,
His father Peleus is alive, and Pyrrhus eeke his sonne.
What tytle then can Ajax make? This geere of ryght should woone
To Phthya, or to Scyros Ile. And Tewcer is as well
Achilles uncle as is hee. Yit dooth not Tewcer mell.
And if he did, should hee obteyne? Well, sith the cace dooth rest
On tryall which of us can prove his dooings to bee best,
I needes must say my deedes are mo than well I can expresse:
Yit will I shew them orderly as neere as I can gesse.
Foreknowing that her sonne should dye, the Lady Thetis hid
Achilles in a maydes attyre. By which fyne slyght shee did
All men deceyve, and Ajax too. This armour in a packe
With other womens tryflyng toyes I caryed on my backe,
A bayte to treyne a manly hart. Appareld like a mayd
Achilles tooke the speare and sheeld in hand, and with them playd.
Then sayd I: O thou Goddesse sonne, why shouldst thou bee afrayd
To raze great Troy, whoose overthrowe for thee is onely stayd?
And laying hand uppon him I did send him (as you see)
To valeant dooings meete for such a valeant man as hee.
And therfore all the deedes of him are my deedes. I did wound
King Teleph with his speare, and when he lay uppon the ground,
I was intreated with the speare to heale him safe and sound.
That Thebe lyeth overthrowne, is my deede. You must think
I made the folk of Tenedos and Lesbos for to shrink.
Both Chryse and Cillas, Phebus townes, and Scyros I did take.
And my ryght hand Lyrnessus walles to ground did levell make.
I gave you him that should confound (besydes a number mo)
The valeant Hector. Hector, that our most renowmed fo,
Is slayne by mee. This armour heere I sue agein to have
This armour by the which I found Achilles. I it gave
Achilles whyle he was alive: and now that he is gone
I clayme it as myne owne agein. What tyme the greefe of one
Had perst the harts of all the Greekes, and that our thousand sayle
At Awlis by Ewboya stayd, bycause the wyndes did fayle,
Continewing eyther none at all or cleene ageinst us long,
And that our Agamemnon was by destnyes overstrong
Commaunded for to sacrifyse his giltlesse daughter to
Diana, which her father then refusing for to doo
Was angry with the Godds themselves, and though he were a king
Continued also fatherlyke: by reason, I did bring
His gentle nature to relent for publike profits sake.
I must confesse (whereat his grace shall no displeasure take)
Before a parciall judge I undertooke a ryght hard cace.
Howbeeit for his brothers sake, and for the royall mace
Committed, and his peoples weale, at length he was content
To purchace prayse wyth blood. Then was I to the moother sent,
Who not perswaded was to bee, but compast with sum guyle.
Had Ajax on this errand gone, our shippes had all this whyle
Lyne still there yit for want of wynd. Moreover I was sent
To Ilion as ambassadour. I boldly thither went,
And entred and behilld the Court, wherin there was as then
Great store of princes, Dukes, Lords, knyghts, and other valeant men.
And yit I boldly nerethelesse my message did at large
The which the whole estate of Greece had given mee erst in charge.
I made complaint of Paris, and accusde him to his head.
Demaunding restitution of Queene Helen that same sted
And of the bootye with her tane. Both Priamus the king
And eeke Antenor his alye the woordes of mee did sting.
And Paris and his brothers, and the resdew of his trayne
That under him had made the spoyle, could hard and scarce refrayne
There wicked hands. You, Menelay, doo know I doo not feyne.
And that day was the first in which wee joyntly gan susteyne
A tast of perrills, store whereof did then behind remayne.

It would bee overlong to tell eche profitable thing
That during this long lasting warre I well to passe did bring,
By force as well as pollycie. For after that the furst
Encounter once was overpast, our emnyes never durst
Give battell in the open feeld, but hild themselves within
Theyr walles and bulwarks till the tyme the tenth yeere did begin,
Now what didst thou of all that whyle, that canst doo nought but streeke?
Or to what purpose servedst thou? For if thou my deedes seeke,
I practysd sundry pollycies to trappe our foes unware:
I fortifyde our Camp with trench which heretofore lay bare:
I hartned our companions with a quiet mynd to beare
The longnesse of the weery warre: I taught us how wee were
Bothe to bee fed and furnished: and to and fro I went
To places where the Counsell thought most meete I should bee sent.
Behold the king deceyved in his dreame by false pretence
Of Joves commaundement, bade us rayse our seedge and get us hence.
The author of his dooing so may well bee his defence.
Now Ajax should have letted this, and calld them backe ageine
To sacke the towne of Troy. He should have fought with myght and maine.
Why did he not restreyne them when they ready were to go?
Why tooke he not his swoord in hand? why gave he not as tho
Sum counsell for the fleeting folk to follow at the brunt?
In fayth it had a tryfle beene to him that ay is woont
Such vaunting in his mouth to have. But he himself did fly
As well as others. I did see, and was ashamed, I,
To see thee when thou fledst, and didst prepare so cowardly
To sayle away. And thereuppon I thus aloud did cry:
What meene yee, sirs? what madnesse dooth you move to go to shippe
And suffer Troy as good as tane, thus out of hand to slippe?
What else this tenth yeere beare yee home than shame? with such like woord
And other, (which the eloquence of sorrowe did avoord,)
I brought them from theyr flying shippes. Then Agamemnon calld
Toogither all the capteines who with feare were yit appalld.
But Ajax durst not then once creake. Yit durst Thersites bee
So bold as rayle uppon the kings, and he was payd by mee
For playing so the sawcye Jacke. Then stood I on my toes
And to my fearefull countrymen gave hart ageinst theyr foes.
And shed new courage in theyr mynds through talk that fro mee goes.
From that tyme foorth what ever thing hath valeantly atcheeved
By this good fellow beene, is myne, whoo him from flyght repreeved.
And now to touche thee: which of all the Greekes commendeth thee?
Or seeketh thee? But Diomed communicates with mee
His dooings, and alloweth mee, and thinkes him well apayd
To have Ulysses ever as companion at the brayd.
And sumwhat woorth you will it graunt (I trow) alone for mee
Out of so many thousand Greekes by Diomed pikt to bee.
No lot compelled mee to go, and yit I setting lyght
As well the perrill of my foes as daunger of the nyght,
Killd Dolon who about the selfsame feate that nyght did stray,
That wee went out for. But I first compelld him to bewray
All things concerning faythlesse Troy, and what it went about.
When all was learnd, and nothing left behynd to harken out,
I myght have then come home with prayse. I was not so content.
Proceeding further to the Camp of Rhesus streyght I went,
And killed bothe himself and all his men about his tent.
And taking bothe his chariot and his horses which were whyght,
Returned home in tryumph like a conquerour from fyght.
Denye you mee the armour of the man whoose steedes the fo
Requyred for his playing of the spye a nyght, and so
May Ajax bee more kynd to mee than you are. What should I
Declare unto you how my sword did waste ryght valeantly
Sarpedons hoste of Lycia? I by force did overthrowe
Alastor, Crome, and Ceranos, and Haly on a rowe.
Alcander, and Noemon too, and Prytanis besyde,
And Thoon and Theridamas, and Charops also dyde
By mee, and so did Ewnomos enforst by cruell fate.
And many mo in syght of Troy I slew of bacer state.
There also are (O countrymen) about mee woundings, which
The place of them make beawtyfull. See heere (his hand did twich
His shirt asyde) and credit not vayne woordes. Lo heere the brist
That alwayes to bee one in your affayres hath never mist.
And yit of all this whyle no droppe of blood hath Ajax spent
Uppon his fellowes. Woundlesse is his body and unrent.
But what skills that, as long as he is able for to vaunt
He fought against bothe Troy and Jove to save our fleete? I graunt
He did so. For I am not of such nature as of spyght
Well dooings to deface: so that he chalendge not the ryght
Of all men to himself alone, and that he yeeld to mee
Sum share, whoo of the honour looke a partener for to bee.
Patroclus also having on Achilles armour, sent
The Trojans and theyr leader hence, to burne our navye bent.
And yit thinks hee that none durst meete with Hector saving hee,
Forgetting bothe the king, and eeke his brother, yea and mee.
Where hee himself was but the nyneth, appoynted by the king,
And by the fortune of his lot preferd to doo the thing.
But now for all your valeantnesse, what Issue had I pray
Your combate? Shall I tell? Forsoothe, that Hector went his way
And had no harme. Now wo is mee how greeveth it my hart
To think uppon that season when the bulwark of our part
Achilles dyde. When neyther teares, nor greef, nor feare could make
Mee for to stay, but that uppon theis shoulders I did take,
I say uppon theis shoulders I Achilles body tooke,
And this same armour claspt theron, which now to weare I looke.
Sufficient strength I have to beare as great a weyght as this,
And eeke a hart wherein regard of honour rooted is.
Think you that Thetis for her sonne so instantly besought
Sir Vulcane this same heavenly gift to give her, which is wrought
With such exceeding cunning, to th'entent a souldier that
Hath neyther wit nor knowledge should it weare? He knowes not what
The things ingraven on the sheeld doo meene. Of Ocean se,
Of land, of heaven, and of the starres no skill at all hath he.
The Beare that never dyves in sea he dooth not understand,
The Pleyads, nor the Hyads, nor the cities that doo stand
Uppon the earth, nor yit the swoord that Orion holdes in hand.
He seekes to have an armour of the which he hath no skill.
And yit in fynding fault with mee bycause I had no will
To follow this same paynfull warre and sought to shonne the same,
And made it sumwhat longer tyme before I thither came,
He sees not how hee speakes reproch to stout Achilles name.
For if to have dissembled in this case, yee count a cryme,
Wee both offenders bee. Or if protracting of the tyme
Yee count blame woorthye, yit was I the tymelyer of us twayne.
Achilles loving moother him, my wyfe did mee deteyne.
The former tyme was given to them, the rest was given to yow.
And therefore doo I little passe although I could not now
Defend my fault, sith such a man of prowesse, birth and fame
As was Achilles, was with mee offender in the same.
But yit was he espyed by Ulysses wit, but nat
Ulysses by sir Ajax wit. And lest yee woonder at
The rayling of this foolish dolt at mee, hee dooth object
Reproche to you. For if that I offended to detect
Sir Palamed of forged fault, could you without your shame
Arreyne him, and condemne him eeke to suffer for the same?
But neyther could sir Palamed excuse him of the cryme
So heynous and so manifest: and you your selves that tyme
Not onely his indytement heard, but also did behold
His deed avowched to his face by bringing in the gold.

And as for Philoctetes, that he is in Lemnos, I
Deserve not to bee toucht therwith. Defend your cryme: for why
You all consented therunto. Yit doo I not denye,
But that I gave the counsell to convey him out of way
From toyle of warre and travell that by rest he myght assay
To ease the greatnesse of his peynes. He did thereto obey
And by so dooing is alyve. Not only faythfull was
This counsell that I gave the man, but also happye, as
The good successe hath shewed since. Whom sith the destnyes doo
Requyre in overthrowing Troy, appoynt not mee thertoo:
But let sir Ajax rather go. For he with eloquence
Or by some suttle pollycie, shall bring the man fro thence
And pacyfie him raging through disease, and wrathfull ire.
Nay, first the river Simois shall to his spring retyre,
And mountaine Ida shall theron have stonding never a tree,
Yea and the faythlesse towne of Troy by Greekes shall reskewd bee,
Before that Ajax blockish wit shall aught at all avayle,
When my attempts and practyses in your affayres doo fayle.
For though thou, Philoctetes, with the king offended bee,
And with thy fellowes everychone, and most of all with mee,
Although thou cursse and ban mee to the hellish pit for ay,
And wisshest in thy payne that I by chaunce myght crosse thy way,
Of purpose for to draw my blood: yit will I give assay
To fetch thee hither once ageine. And (if that fortune say
Amen,) I will as well have thee and eeke thyne arrowes, as
I have the Trojane prophet whoo by mee surprysed was,
Or as I did the Oracles and Trojane fates disclose,
Or as I from her chappell through the thickest of her foes
The Phrygian Pallads image fetcht: and yit dooth Ajax still
Compare himself with mee. Yee knowe it was the destinyes will
That Troy should never taken bee by any force, untill
This Image first were got. And where was then our valeant knight
Sir Ajax? Where the stately woordes of such a hardy wyght?
Why feareth hee? Why dares Ulysses ventring through the watch
Commit his persone to the nyght his buysnesse to dispatch?
And through the pykes not only for to passe the garded wall
But also for to enter to the strongest towre of all
And for to take the Idoll from her Chappell and her shryne
And beare her thence amid his foes? For had this deede of myne
Beene left undoone, in vayne his sheeld of Oxen hydes seven fold
Should yit the Sonne of Telamon have in his left hand hold.
That nyght subdewed I Troy towne. That nyght did I it win,
And opened it for you likewyse with ease to enter in.
Cease to upbrayd mee by theis lookes and mumbling woordes of thyne
With Diomed: his prayse is in this fact as well as myne.
And thou thy selfe when for our shippes thou diddest in reskew stand,
Wart not alone: the multitude were helping thee at hand.
I had but only one with mee. Whoo (if he had not thought
A wyseman better than a strong, and that preferment ought
Not alway followe force of hand) would now himself have sought
This Armour. So would toother Ajax better stayed doo,
And feerce Ewrypyle, and the sonne of hault Andremon too.
No lesse myght eeke Idominey, and eeke Meriones,
His countryman, and Menelay. For every one of these
Are valeant men of hand, and not inferior unto thee
In martiall feates. And yit they are contented rulde to bee
By myne advyce. Thou hast a hand that serveth well in fyght.
Thou hast a wit that stands in neede of my direction ryght.
Thy force is witlesse. I have care of that that may ensew.
Thou well canst fyght: the king dooth choose the tymes for fyghting dew
By myne advyce. Thou only with thy body canst avayle.
But I with bodye and with mynd to profite doo not fayle,
And looke how much the mayster dooth excell the gally slave,
Or looke how much preheminence the Capteine ought to have
Above his souldyer: even so much excell I also thee.
A wit farre passing strength of hand inclosed is in mee.
In wit rests cheefly all my force. My Lordes, I pray bestowe
This gift on him who ay hath beene your watchman as yee knowe.
And for my tenne yeeres cark and care endured for your sake
Full recompence for my deserts with this same honour make.
Our labour draweth to an end, all lets are now by mee
Dispatched. And by bringing Troy in cace to taken bee
I have already taken it. Now by the hope that yee
Conceyve, within a whyle of Troy the mine for to see,
And by the Goddes of whom alate our emnyes I bereft,
And as by wisedome to bee doone yit any thing is left,
If any bold aventrous deede, or any perlous thing,
That asketh hazard both of lyfe and limb to passe to bring,
Or if yee think of Trojane fates there yit dooth ought remayne,
Remember mee. Or if from mee this armour you restrayne,
Bestowe it on this same. With that he shewed with his hand
Minervas fatall image, which hard by in syght did stand.
The Lords were moved with his woordes, and then appeared playne
The force that is in eloquence. The lerned man did gayne
The armour of the valeant. He that did so oft susteine
Alone both fyre, and swoord, and Jove, and Hector could not byde
One brunt of wrath. And whom no force could vanquish ere that tyde,
Now only anguish overcommes. He drawes his swoord and sayes:
Well: this is myne yit. Unto this no clayme Ulysses layes.
This must I use ageinst myself: this blade that heretofore
Hath bathed beene in Trojane blood, must now his mayster gore
That none may Ajax overcome save Ajax. With that woord
Into his brest (not wounded erst) he thrust his deathfull swoord.
His hand to pull it out ageine unable was. The blood
Did spout it out. Anon the ground bestayned where he stood,
Did breede the pretye purple flowre uppon a clowre of greene,
Which of the wound of Hyacinth had erst engendred beene.
The selfsame letters eeke that for the chyld were written than,
Were now againe amid the flowre new written for the man.
The former tyme complaynt, the last a name did represent.

Ulysses, having wonne the pryse, within a whyle was sent
To Thoants and Hysiphiles realme, the land defamde of old
For murthering all the men therin by women over bold.
At length attayning land and lucke according to his mynd,
To carry Hercles arrowes backe he set his sayles to wynd.
Which when he with the lord of them among the Greekes had brought,
And of the cruell warre at length the utmost feate had wrought,
At once both Troy and Priam fell. And Priams wretched wife
Lost (after all) her womans shape, and barked all her lyfe
In forreine countrye. In the place that bringeth to a streight
The long spred sea of Hellespont, did Ilion burne in height.
The kindled fyre with blazing flame continewed unalayd,
And Priam with his aged blood Joves Altar had berayd.
And Phebus preestesse casting up her handes to heaven on hye,
Was dragd and haled by the heare. The Grayes most spyghtfully
(As eche of them had prisoners tane in meede of victorye)
Did drawe the Trojane wyves away, who lingring whyle they mought
Among the burning temples of theyr Goddes, did hang about
Theyr sacred shrynes and images. Astyanax downe was cast
From that same turret from the which his moother in tyme past
Had shewed him his father stand oft fyghting to defend
Himself and that same famous realme of Troy that did descend
From many noble auncetors. And now the northerne wynd
With prosperous blasts, to get them thence did put the Greekes in mynd.
The shipmen went aboord, and hoyst up sayles, and made fro thence.
Adeew deere Troy (the women cryde), wee haled are from hence.
And therwithall they kist the ground, and left yit smoking still
Theyr native houses. Last of all tooke shippe ageinst her will
Queene Hecub: who (a piteous cace to see) was found amid
The tumbes in which her sonnes were layd. And there as Hecub did
Embrace theyr chists and kisse theyr bones, Ulysses voyd of care
Did pull her thence. Yit raught shee up, and in her boosom bare
Away a crum of Hectors dust, and left on Hectors grave
Her hory heares and teares, which for poore offrings shee him gave.
Ageinst the place where Ilion was, there is another land
Manured by the Biston men. In this same Realme did stand
King Polemnestors palace riche, to whom king Priam sent
His little infant Polydore to foster, to th'entent
He might bee out of daunger from the warres: wherin he ment
Ryght wysely, had he not with him great riches sent, a bayt
To stirre a wicked covetous mynd to treason and deceyt.
For when the state of Troy decayd, the wicked king of Thrace
Did cut his nurcechylds weazant, and (as though the sinfull cace
Toogither with the body could have quyght beene put away)
He threw him also in the sea. It happened by the way,
That Agamemnon was compeld with all his fleete to stay
Uppon the coast of Thrace, untill the sea were wexen calme,
And till the hideous stormes did cease, and furious wynds were falne.
Heere rysing gastly from the ground which farre about him brake,
Achilles with a threatning looke did like resemblance make
As when at Agamemnon he his wrongfull swoord did shake,
And sayd: Unmyndfull part yee hence of mee, O Greekes, and must
My merits thanklesse thus with mee be buryed in the dust?
Nay, doo not so. But to th'entent my death dew honour have,
Let Polyxene in sacrifyse bee slayne uppon my grave.
Thus much he sayd: and shortly his companions dooing as
By vision of his cruell ghost commaundment given them was,
Did fetch her from her mothers lappe, whom at that tyme, well neere,
In that most great adversitie alonly shee did cheere.
The haultye and unhappye mayd, and rather to bee thought
A man than woman, to the tumb with cruell hands was brought,
To make a cursed sacrifyse. Whoo mynding constantly
Her honour, when shee standing at the Altar prest to dye,
Perceyvd the savage ceremonies in making ready, and
The cruell Neoptolemus with naked swoord in hand
Stand staring with ungentle eyes uppon her gentle face,
She sayd: Now use thou when thou wilt my gentle blood. The cace
Requyres no more delay. Bestow thy weapon in my chest,
Or in my throte: (in saying so shee proferred bare her brest,
And eeke her throte). Assure your selves it never shalbee seene,
That any wyght shall (by my will) have slave of Polyxeene.
Howbee't with such a sacrifyse no God yee can delyght.
I would desyre no more but that my wretched moother myght
Bee ignorant of this my death. My moother hindreth mee,
And makes the pleasure of my death much lesser for to bee.
Howbeeit not the death of mee should justly greeve her hart:
But her owne lyfe. Now to th'entent I freely may depart
To Limbo, stand yee men aloof: and sith I aske but ryght
Forebeare to touch mee. So my blood unsteyned in his syght
Shall farre more acceptable been what ever wyght he bee
Whom you prepare to pacifye by sacrifysing mee.
Yit (if that these last woordes of myne may purchace any grace),
I, daughter of king Priam erst, and now in prisoners cace,
Beeseeche you all unraunsomed to render to my moother
My bodye: and for buriall of the same to take none other
Reward than teares: for whyle shee could shee did redeeme with gold.
This sayd: the teares that shee forbare the people could not hold.
And even the verry preest himself full sore ageinst his will
And weeping, thrust her through the brest which she hild stoutly still.
Shee sinking softly to the ground with faynting legges, did beare
Even to the verry latter gasp a countnance voyd of feare.
And when shee fell, shee had a care such parts of her to hyde,
As womanhod and chastitie forbiddeth to be spyde.
The Trojane women tooke her up, and moorning reckened
King Priams children, and what blood that house alone had shed.
They syghde for fayer Polyxeene: they syghed eeke for thee
Who late wart Priams wyfe, whoo late wart counted for to bee
The flowre of Asia in his flowre, and Queene of moothers all:
But now the bootye of the fo as evill lot did fall,
And such a bootye as the sly Ulysses did not passe
Uppon her, saving that erewhyle shee Hectors moother was.
So hardly for his moother could a mayster Hector fynd.
Embracing in her aged armes the bodye of the mynd
That was so stout, shee powrd theron with sobbing syghes unsoft
The teares that for her husband and her children had so oft
And for her countrye sheaded beene. Shee weeped in her wound
And kist her pretye mouth, and made her brist with shrekes to sound,
According to her woonted guyse, and in the jellyed blood
Beerayed all her grisild heare, and in a sorrowfull mood
Sayd theis and many other woordes with brest bescratcht and rent:

O daughter myne, the last for whom thy moother may lament,
(For what remaynes?) O daughter, thou art dead and gone. I see
Thy wound which at the verry hart strikes mee as well as thee.
And lest that any one of myne unwounded should depart,
Thou also gotten hast a wound. Howbee't bycause thou wart
A woman, I beleeved thee from weapon to bee free.
But notwithstanding that thou art a woman, I doo see
Thee slayne by swoord. Even he that kild thy brothers killeth thee,
Achilles, the decay of Troy and maker bare of mee.
What tyme that he of Paris shaft by Phebus meanes was slayne,
I sayd of feerce Achilles now no feare dooth more remayne.
But then, even then he most of all was feared for to bee.
The asshes of him rageth still ageinst our race I see.
Wee feele an emny of him dead and buryed in his grave.
To feede Achilles furie, I a frutefull issue gave.
Great Troy lyes under foote, and with a ryght great greevous fall
The mischeeves of the common weale are fully ended all.
But though to others Troy be gone, yit standes it still to mee:
My sorrowes ronne as fresh a race as ever and as free.
I late ago a sovereine state, advaunced with such store
Of daughters, sonnes, and sonneinlawes, and husband over more
And daughtrinlawes, am caryed like an outlawe bare and poore,
By force and violence haled from my childrens tumbes, to bee
Presented to Penelope a gift, who shewing mee
In spinning my appoynted taske, shall say: This same is shee
That was sumtyme king Priams wyfe, this was the famous moother
Of Hector. And now after losse of such a sort of other,
Thou (whoo alonly in my greefe my comfort didst remayne,)
To pacifye our emnyes wrath uppon his tumb art slayne.
Thus bare I deathgyfts for my foes. To what intent am I
Most wretched wyght remayning still? Why doo I linger? Why
Dooth hurtfull age preserve mee still alive? To what intent,
Yee cruell Goddes, reserve yee mee that hath already spent
Too manye yeeres, onlesse it bee new buryalls for to see?
And whoo would think that Priamus myght happy counted bee
Sith Troy is razed? Happy man is hee in being dead.
His lyfe and kingdoome he forwent toogither: and this stead
He sees not thee, his daughter, slaine. But peradventure thou
Shall like the daughter of a king have sumptuous buryall now,
And with thy noble auncetors thy bodye layd shall bee.
Our linage hath not so good lucke. The most that shall to thee
Bee yeelded are thy moothers teares, and in this forreine land
To hyde thy murthered corce withall a little heape of sand.
For all is lost. Nay yit remaynes (for whome I well can fynd
In hart to live a little whyle) an imp unto my mynd
Most deere, now only left alone, sumtyme of many mo
The yoongest, little Polydore, delivered late ago
To Polemnestor, king of Thrace, whoo dwelles within theis bounds.
But wherefore doo I stay so long in wasshing of her wounds,
And face berayd with gory blood? In saying thus, shee went
To seaward with an aged pace and hory heare beerent.
And (wretched woman) as shee calld for pitchers for to drawe
Up water, shee of Polydore on shore the carkesse sawe,
And eeke the myghty wounds at which the Tyrants swoord went thurrow.
The Trojane Ladyes shreeked out. But shee was dumb for sorrow.
The anguish of her hart forclosde as well her speech as eeke
Her teares devowring them within. Shee stood astonyed leeke
As if shee had beene stone. One whyle the ground shee staard uppon.
Another whyle a gastly looke shee kest to heaven. Anon
Shee looked on the face of him that lay before her killd.
Sumtymes his woundes, (his woundes I say) shee specially behilld.
And therwithall shee armd her selfe and furnisht her with ire:
Wherethrough as soone as that her hart was fully set on fyre,
As though shee still had beene a Queene, to vengeance shee her bent
Enforcing all her witts to fynd some kynd of ponnishment.
And as a Lyon robbed of her whelpes becommeth wood,
And taking on the footing of her emnye where hee stood,
Purseweth him though out of syght: even so Queene Hecubee
(Now having meynt her teares with wrath) forgetting quyght that shee
Was old, but not her princely hart, to Polemnestor went
The cursed murtherer, and desyrde his presence to th'entent
To shew to him a masse of gold (so made shee her pretence)
Which for her lyttle Polydore was hid not farre from thence.
The Thracian king beleeving her, as eager of the pray,
Went with her to a secret place. And as they there did stay,
With flattring and deceytfull toong he thus to her did say:
Make speede I prey thee, Hecuba, and give thy sonne this gold.
I sweare by God it shall bee his, as well that I doo hold
Already, as that thou shalt give. Uppon him speaking so,
And swearing and forswearing too, shee looked sternely tho,
And beeing sore inflaamd with wrath, caught hold uppon him, and
Streyght calling out for succor to the wyves of Troy at hand
Did in the traytors face bestowe her nayles, and scratched out
His eyes, her anger gave her hart and made her strong and stout.
Shee thrust her fingars in as farre as could bee, and did bore
Not now his eyes (for why his eyes were pulled out before)
But bothe the places of the eyes berayd with wicked blood.
The Thracians at theyr Tyrannes harme for anger wexing wood,
Began to scare the Trojane wyves with darts and stones. Anon
Queene Hecub ronning at a stone, with gnarring seazd theron,
And wirryed it beetweene her teeth. And as shee opte her chappe
To speake, in stead of speeche shee barkt. The place of this missehappe
Remayneth still, and of the thing there done beares yit the name.
Long myndfull of her former illes, shee sadly for the same
Went howling in the feeldes of Thrace. Her fortune moved not
Her Trojans only, but the Greekes her foes to ruthe: her lot
Did move even all the Goddes to ruthe: and so effectually,
That Hecub to deserve such end even Juno did denye.

Although the Morning of the selfsame warres had favorer beene:
Shee had no leysure to lament the fortune of the Queene,
Nor on the slaughters and the fall of Ilion for to think.
A household care more neerer home did in her stomacke sink,
For Memnon her beloved sonne, whom dying shee behild
Uppon the feerce Achilles speare amid the Phrygian feeld.
She saw it, and her ruddy hew with which shee woonted was
To dye the breaking of the day, did into palenesse passe:
And all the skye was hid with clowdes. But when his corce was gone
To burningward, shee could not fynd in hart to looke theron:
But with her heare about her eares shee kneeled downe before
The myghtye Jove, and thus gan speake unto him weeping sore:
Of al that have theyr dwelling place uppon the golden skye
The lowest (for through all the world the feawest shrynes have I)
But yit a Goddesse, I doo come, not that thou shouldst decree
That Altars, shrynes, and holydayes bee made to honour mee.
Yit if thou marke how much that I a woman doo for thee,
In keeping nyght within her boundes, by bringing in the light,
Thou well mayst thinke mee worthy sum reward to clayme of ryght.
But neyther now is that the thing the Morning cares to have,
Ne yit her state is such as now dew honour for to crave.
Bereft of my deere Memnon who in fyghting valeantly
To help his uncle, (so it was your will, O Goddes) did dye
Of stout Achilles sturdye speare even in his flowring pryme,
I sue to thee, O king of Goddes, to doo him at this tyme
Sum honour as a comfort of his death, and ease this hart
Of myne which greatly greeved is with wound of percing smart.
No sooner Jove hadgraunted dame Aurora her desyre
But that the flame of Memnons corce that burned in the fyre
Did fall: and flaky rolles of smoke did dark the day, as when
A foggy mist steames upward from a River or a fen,
And suffreth not the Sonne to shyne within it. Blacke as cole
The cinder rose: and into one round lump assembling whole
Grew grosse, and tooke bothe shape and hew. The fyre did lyfe it send,
The lyghtnesse of the substance self did wings unto it lend.
And at the first it flittred like a bird: and by and by
It flew a fethered bird in deede. And with that one gan fly
Innumerable mo of selfsame brood: whoo once or twyce
Did sore about the fyre, and made a piteous shreeking thryce.
The fowrth tyme in theyr flying round, themselves they all withdrew
In battells twayne, and feercely foorth of eyther syde one flew
To fyght a combate. With theyr billes and hooked talants keene
And with theyr wings couragiously they wreakt theyr wrathfull teene.
And myndfull of the valeant man of whom they issued beene,
They never ceased jobbing eche uppon the others brest,
Untill they falling both downe dead with fyghting overprest,
Had offred up theyr bodyes as a woorthy sacrifyse
Unto theyr cousin Memnon who to Asshes burned lyes.
Theis soodeine birds were named of the founder of theyr stocke:
For men doo call them Memnons birds. And every yeere a flocke
Repayre to Memnons tumb, where twoo doo in the foresayd wyse
In manner of a yeeremynd slea themselves in sacrifyse.
Thus where as others did lament that Dymants daughter barkt,
Auroras owne greef busyed her, that smally shee it markt
Which thing shee to this present tyme with piteous teares dooth shewe:
For through the universall world shee sheadeth moysting deawe.

Yit suffred not the destinyes all hope to perrish quyght
Togither with the towne of Troy. That good and godly knyght
The sonne of Venus bare away by nyght uppon his backe
His aged father and his Goddes, an honorable packe.
Of all the riches of the towne that only pray he chose,
So godly was his mynd: and like a bannisht man he goes
By water with his owne yoong sonne Ascanius from the Ile
Antandros, and he shonnes the shore of Thracia which ere whyle
The wicked Tyrants treason did with Polydores blood defyle.
And having wynd and tyde at will, he saufly wyth his trayne
Arryved at Apollos towne where Anius then did reigne.
Whoo being both Apollos preest and of that place the king,
Did enterteyne him in his house and unto church him bring,
And shewd him bothe the Citie and the temples knowen of old,
And eeke the sacred trees by which Latona once tooke hold
When shee of chyldbirth travailed. As soone as sacrifyse
Was doone with Oxens inwards burnt according to the guyse,
And casting incence in the fyre, and sheading wyne thereon,
They joyfull to the court returnd, and there they took anon
Repaste of meate and drink. Then sayd the good Anchyses this:
O Phebus, sovereine preest, onlesse I take my markes amisse,
(As I remember) when I first of all this towne did see,
Fowre daughters and a sonne of thyne thou haddest heere with thee.
King Anius shooke his head wheron he ware a myter whyght,
And answerd thus: O noble prince, in fayth thou gessest ryght.
Of children fyve a father then, thou diddest mee behold,
Whoo now (with such unconstancie are mortall matters rolld)
Am in a manner chyldlesse quyght. For what avayles my sonne
Who in the Ile of Anderland a great way hence dooth wonne?
Which country takes his name of him, and in the selfsayd place,
In stead of father, like a king he holdes the royall mace.
Apollo gave his lot to him: and Bacchus for to showe
His love, a greater gift uppon his susters did bestowe
Then could bee wisht or credited. For whatsoever they
Did towche, was turned into come, and wyne, and oyle streyghtway.
And so theyr was riche use in them. As soone as that the fame
Hereof to Agamemnons eares, the scourge of Trojans, came,
Lest you myght tast your stormes alone and wee not feele the same
In part, an hoste he hither sent, and whither I would or no
Did take them from mee, forcing them among the Greekes to go
To feede the Greekish army with theyr heavenly gift. But they
Escapde whither they could by flyght. A couple tooke theyr way
To Ile Ewboya: tother two to Anderland did fly,
Theyr brothers Realme. An host of men pursewd them by and by,
And threatened warre onlesse they were deliverde. Force of feare
Subdewing nature, did constreyne the brother (men must beare
With fearfulnesse) to render up his susters to theyr fo.
For neyther was Aenaeas there, nor valeant Hector (who
Did make your warre last ten yeeres long) the countrye to defend.
Now when they should like prisoners have beene fettred, in the end
They casting up theyr handes (which yit were free) to heaven, did cry
To Bacchus for to succour them, who helpt them by and by,
At leastwyse if it may bee termd a help, in woondrous wyse
To alter folke. For never could I lerne ne can surmyse
The manner how they lost theyr shape. The thing it selfe is knowen.
With fethered wings as whyght as snow they quyght away are flowen
Transformed into doovehouse dooves, thy wyfe dame Venus burdes.
When that the time of meate was spent with theis and such like woordes,
The table was removed streyght, and then they went to sleepe.
Next morrow rysing up as soone as day began to peepe,
They went to Phebus Oracle, which willed them to go
Unto theyr moother countrey and the coastes theyr stocke came fro.
King Anius bare them companie. And when away they shoold,
He gave them gifts. Anchises had a scepter all of goold.
Ascanius had a quiver and a Cloke right brave and trim.
Aenaeas had a standing Cup presented unto him.
The Thebane Therses whoo had been king Anius guest erewhyle
Did send it out of Thessaly: but Alcon one of Myle
Did make the cuppe. And hee theron a story portrayd out.
It was a Citie with seven gates in circuit round about,
Which men myght easly all discerne. The gates did represent
The Cities name, and showed playne what towne thereby was ment.
Without the towne were funeralls a dooing for the dead,
With herces, tapers, fyres, and tumbes. The wyves with ruffled head
And stomacks bare pretended greef. The nymphes seemd teares to shead,
And wayle the drying of theyr welles. The leavelesse trees did seare.
And licking on the parched stones Goats romed heere and there.
Behold amid this Thebane towne was lyvely portrayd out
Echions daughters twayne, of which the one with courage stout
Did prefer bothe her naked throte and stomacke to the knyfe:
And tother with a manly hart did also spend her lyfe,
For saufgard of her countryfolk: and how that theruppon
They both were caryed solemly on herces, and anon
Were burned in the cheefest place of all the Thebane towne.
Then (least theyr linage should decay whoo dyde with such renowne,)
Out of the Asshes of the maydes there issued twoo yong men,
And they unto theyr moothers dust did obsequies agen.
Thus much was graved curiously in auncient precious brasse,
And on the brim a trayle of flowres of bearbrich gilded was.
The Trojans also gave to him as costly giftes agen.
Bycause he was Apollos preest they gave to him as then
A Chist to keepe in frankincence. They gave him furthermore
A Crowne of gold wherin were set of precious stones great store.