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A08974
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The nightingale vvarbling forth her owne disaster; or The rape of Philomela. Newly written in English verse, by Martin Parker
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M. P. (Martin Parker), d. 1656?; Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D. Metamorphoses. Book 6.
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1632
(1632)
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STC 19260; ESTC S110227
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11,524
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44
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understand at large My woe wrought by her husbands villanie Yet what she knew she covered secretly Vntill she found a time revenge to worke O marke what plots in womens minds do lurke 37 For such revenge at length she wrought indeed As staynes her sex as foule as be did his O that I might now from my taske be freed I mourne for all the story chiefely this I coadjutor was in her amisse Ah now methinkes I heare some bashfull dame Say Philomel fye hold thy peace for shame 38 To this I answere T were a deed unjust Seeing I haue so lavish bin to tell Each circumstance of Terous lawlesse lust And barbarous cruelty both sprung from hell To hide my sisters fault no Philomel Proceed aright the second part to sing Of thy sad song without dissembling 39 And tell thine owne blame too as well as hers So shalt thou not of falshood be accus'd Be bold for he or she that truth prefers And loth to be by flattery abus'd If thou tell true will hold thee more excus'd Come briefly to 't or else thy long digression Will lengthen out the list of thy transgression 40 Then this it is when Progne as I sayd Well understood where I her sister was She studying how to have me thence convay'd Marke what the Destinies soone brought to passe It was a custome through the realme of Thrace For women like mad Bedlams forth to range About the country clad in garments strange 41 In celebration of mad Bacchus feasts A gesture proper to his Deity Whose power doth metamorphose men to beasts When wâ—â— of them hath got the masterie Among these Bachanalian â—ides went shee I meane my sister through which preteâ—â— She came to visit me with woe perpleâ—â— 42 She tooke me from that place disconsolate And brought me with her privately to th' Court Tereus mistrusting no such divelish hate Nor that he was detected in such sort Did entertaine his Queene with Princely sport And she for him a sumptuous feast did make To tell what Cares she got my heart doth ake 43 Her owne deare Sonne by Tereus on her got Vnnaturally she kil'd Oh bloody beast Nay worse than any beast for they will not Suffer their yong of harme to taste the least This Banquet did excell Lycaons feast For here a Mother of her Sonne made meat Which his owne Father greedily did eat 44 Oh flinty-hearted Progne what although Tereus offended thee beyond compare Could nothing serve but to requite him so Hadst thou not in thy child the greatest share Which in thy body thou nine moneths didst beare Yet blaming thee I must my selfe condemne For I consented to the death of him 45 The pretty Infant seeing her to sit So pensively as one depriv'd of joy He runs to her according to his wit And askes the cause of her so sad annoy Mother saith he am I not your best boy Come kisse me then and I le goe call my Dad To come and play with you and make you glad 46 But she not like a Woman but a Tyger Did cast him from her in disdainefull wise Then did she take him Oh unheard-of rigour And cut his head off this could not suffice But of his little limbs she made mine'd pies Which at the banquet was the chiefest dish Thus cursed Tereus fed on his owne flesh 47 This barbarous action gives the world good cause To enter into consultation just For surely none can tell without great pause Which fact was worst or Tereus beastly lust Or Pragnes monstrous murther Sure I must Censure her deed o th' two to be the worst To kill her infant whom she bare and nurst 48 He that upon his foe would vengeance take And in most wrathfull manner wreak his spleene Let him a woman of his counsell make Their hearts most cruell are as may be seene By the relation of this furious Queene Fye Philomel thou wilt thy selfe abuse If for her sake thou all her sex accuse 49 Tush why should I be partiall in this case I 'l tell the truth and yet I doe not say Though this one woman did her sex disgrace That others imitate her wicked way And yet alas too many goe astray In these last times for Infants every yeere Are by their mothers murthered as I heare 50 Which makes me to take up a just complaint Against the female sex for cruelty And as my owne disaster I doe paint Procured by my brothers luxurie â—â—en so I have and t is but equitie Demonstrated or will ere I have done Progne's foule crime in killing her owne sonne 51 Tereus having well fed calls for young Jtis Deere Queene where is my little boy quoth he In whom next thee my temporall delight is I thinke he 's neere enough to you quoth shee Neerer than he is now he cannot be Much good may 't doe you Sir for you have eate I tell you true no ordinary meate 52 With that I Philomel that stood unseene Behind a cloath of arras with the head O' th infant given me by my sister Queene Step'd forth and hearing what before she said Of the event I nought at all did dread That Tereus more might see his wretched case I threw the head of Jtis in his face 53 Looke how a Lion roused from his sleepe Runnes furiously ' gainst those did him wake So Tereus to the heart was struck so deepe That more than terror made his joynts to quakes O wife quoth he what vengeance didst thou take 'T was I offended why didst not kill mee As for young Jtis what offence did hee 54 Was he not thine owne flesh aswell as mine How hadst thou then the heart to see him bleed My fault I doe confesse was great but thine As far and more from nature doth exceed No woman ever did so vile a deed Oh how am I accurst of all that be I have devour'd what was begot by me 55 But I his guiltlesse death will vindicate On both your bodies monsters that you are This said he did no time procrastinate But drew his sword and both our deaths did sweare Because in the childs death we both had share Mine was the wrong at first yet I confesse I must plead guilty though my fault was lesse 56 We fled his fury he with sword in hand Pursu'd us armed with revenge and steele But heavenly powers that had my wrongs well scan'd Though we were worthy would not let us feele The stroke of death all three from head to heele Transformed were if you 'l trust Ovids words From humane Creatures unto senselesse Birds 57 I Philomel turn'd to a Nightingale Fled to the woods and ' gainst a bryer or thorne I sit and warble out my mournfull tale To sleepe I alwaies have with heed forborne But sweetly sing at euening noone and morne No time yeelds rest unto my dulcide throat But still I ply my lachrimable note 58 My sister Progne metamorphos'd was Into a Swallow as the Poet sayes Both of us
all the Winter time doe passe Vnseene of any till Hyperious rayes Increase in hot influence and the dayes Are drawne in length by Natures annuall course The Swallow is a signe of Summers force 59 Vpon her breast her marke of guilt she beares Her back head wings and traine doe mourne in fable No pleasant note she sings as any heares But sounds forth accents fad and untunable Her flesh unfit to furnish any table And if in any's hand she chance to dye 'T is counted ominous I know not why 60 In signe of her unnaturall cookery Within a smokie Chimney still she builds While I with other Birds abrod doe flye In pleasant woods forrests and fragrant fields My tune a comfort unto mankind yeelds When April comes then Country milkmaids long And strive to heare the Nightingales sweet song 61 Yet still alone I love to sit and sing Delighted best in melancholy shade My Harmony doth make the woods to ring And by some learned Clerkes it hath been said That if a snake whereof I am afraid Should me devoure a Scorpions forme shee 'l take Which to prevent I keepe my selfe awake 62 Tereus was made a Lapwing he doth cry For his sonne Jtis as aloft he flyes Which words being reverst doe signifie 'T is I who by one horrid enterprise Did cause such floods of mischiefe to arise My wife her sister and my owne deare child I have quite overthrone oh monster vild 63 Vpon his head a tuft of feathers grow A signe of Regall state which he did wrong And if you marke his nature it doth shew His sordid deeds for he delights in dung He hath a bill exceeding sharp and long A figure of that knife it seemes to be Wherewith he did cut out the tongue of me 64 Thus all of us were rest of humane shape A just reward for our inhumane deeds All this was first occasion'd by the rape Of Philomel Rape further mischiefe breeds The nature of these birds who-ever reads Shall finde so correspondent to my words That no vaine syllable my song affords 65 When old Pandion heard this tragicke newer You will not marvell if I say he wept All transitory joyes he did refuse And spent those houres wherein he should have slept In sobs and grones which him awake still kept Ah miserable man methinks I see The character of Priam now in thee 66 Alas saith he you gods why are you so Vnkind to let me live against my will Why am I kept more misery to know More said I no that cannot be yes still To beare the burden of ones former ill Addes every houre more horror to the heart Nothing but death can case my carefull smart 67 I that within few yeeres was so inrich'd As no Prince could be more with daughters twaine Which at an instant both away are twitch'd With Son in law and grandchild none remaine Why then doth time procrastinate my paine Ah Philomel thou and the little boy Above the rest procure my sad annoy 68 VVretch that I was why did I suffer thee To goe with that capritious ravisher Had I at home detain'd thee still with mee Thou mightest have bin now safe could I preferre The sly perswasions of a flatterer Before my care paternall over thee The world may say the greatest fault 's in me 69 No father I le excuse thee for no harme Thou meant'st to mee nor would'st have let me goe But I as well as Tereus did thee charme VVith oyly words lov'd my sister so And that fond love was cause of this my woe VVho would have thoght her husband could have bin So impious to attempt that horrid sinne 70 The aged Prince having with languishment A little while inforcedly drawne breath His gray haires were to th' earth with sorrowes sent Never went man more willing to his death His living vertues wonne a Cypresse wreath And his true loving subjects with salt teares VVatred his Sepulcher for many yeares 71 The reason why the Poet sayes wee three I and my sister with her husband were Transformed into birds was cause that we Were all unworthy humane shapes to beare As by our deedes prodigious doth appeare The morall of the story is the chiefe As for the changing formes 't is past beliefe 72 Yet there 's no doubt but I poore Philomel Have nothing sung but what you may believe Birds seldome use any untruthes to tell If you 'l not take my warrant I shall grieve Whether you doe or no let me perceive That you all shun the vices mention'd in 't Then I le rejoyce because my song's in print FINIS