Abraham did greeue In sacrifice to offer vppe his sonne Vnto I am and but he did beleeue His flesh and bloud would such a murther shun If flesh and bloud to loose a sonne be loth Then needes must Priam who was meerely both Great was the gall vnto Harpagus hart When king Astiages gaue to him his sonne Whom he had slaine before O cruell part Then gaue his father him to banquet on But this nor those were halfe so much as his For Priam lost the piller of his blisse Alasse good king that thou whose hap was such As neuer any might compared be That Fortune now at thy good hap should grutch Alas I say that thou shouldst liue to see The Wheele so turne euen now to vieu thy fal Who wert but euen now on the top of all Next him sat wailing in most pitious wise Hectors fayre mother Hecuba the Queene Hir outward lookes hir inward smart descries And by hir sighing was hir sorrowe seene A mothers loue vnto hir childe exceedes And death of him hir endlesse torment breedes Aye me she cries as women wont to doe That ere I did conceiue thee in my wombe Thy life was mine thy death is now my woe Aye that my bellie had beene stil thy tombe Rather I had I neuer had thee borne Then thus in thee to see all Troy forlorne When I thy brother Paris did conceiue I dreamt my wombe was all on burning fire And true it was he doth me not deceiue I feare we burne all by his hot desire Yet hadst thou liu'd thy selfe had beene a spring To quench these flames that now are kindleing For when I bred thee few doe know so much I dreamt a Sea was in my body flowing And that the rage of Aeolus was such That blasts of winde the waues thereof were blowing I tolde it none so was the sence nere found But now I both do finde and feele the ground These Seas of teares which heere about thee flow Are those same seas which I supposde to be These stormes of sighs the winds with them did blow Thus is my vision verified in thee Now that a signe of these Seas may be seene I will be called of sadde seas the Queene The Troyan Queene is Hecuba no more Aye me me thinkes I see it now decaying Hector is dead the Greekes do dance therefore And they giue thanks while we for ayde are praying Frowne not O Neptune that I am Queene of Seas For Queene on earth great Ioue it doth not please With that she weeping tore hir haire and said See see they come to take away my crowne Like one halfe frantike or with feare dismaide Looke looke she cries they 'r burning of the towne O Hector helpe vs she alowd him cals He cannot heare hir she to weeping fals Elkanah thy Hannah neuer sight so sore Nor begd with teares that she by thee might beare A sonne although she powred out before Hir makers throne her soule who did hir heare With tithe of teares I say did she not craue him As losse of hirs she mournd yet could not saue him Thomyris thy teares for Spargapises slaine By Cyrus hand the butcher of thy sonne Were not a few which from thy cloudie brain Thou didst let fal to heare what he had donne But O the drops which Hecuba did shoure For thee to shed was neuer in thy powre She lost hir stay hir piller and a sonne Thou lost a sonne but neyther staie nor piller In Hectors death Hecubaes life was done Thou hadst the head of Spargapises killer And victresse wert liuing in ioy long after She euer mournde and neuer moued laughter Thus sat the mother of that worthy man Weeping vpon him in aboundant raine Clasping his body strongly as she can Into hir armes and then she weepes againe Hugging him hard as thogh she would then take him Into the place where great Ioue first did make him By hir I sawe a goodly Lady bright A stately dame as one shal lightly see But that some drooping clouds then dimnd hir sight I askt Troys ghost what might that Lady be This is quoth she Andromache his wife Whom she did loue more dearely then hir life She wept and wailde and wroong hir hands and tare Hir clothes hir haire hir flesh from off hir face A babie too within hir armes she bare Aye me me thought it was a pitious case To see the babe vppon hir breast to lie And both to weepe the childe not knowing why O heare my Lord O heare thy handmaid speake I am Andromache thy louing wife Through thy dead senses let my words now breake Thou that refusde to heare me in thy life Ah hadst thou listned when thou liuing wert This greefe had neuer come so nigh my hart Thou madste no reckoning of my vision strange Braue men are wont to be too credulous My dreame did tell me that thy life must change If thou this day with Greekes wert venturous I tolde it thee But Womens words are toyes When men most wilfull seeke their owne annoies I tolde the King our Father and the Queene We all did pray thee All could not preuaile For valiant men will haue their valure seene Hector that day must needes the Greekes assaile That day that one day couldst thou not forbeare But men resolued perswasions will nor heare Then flouds of teares ran downe hir christall cheekes Like streames that follow along the siluer sandes A troubled soule in teares hir comfort seekes O heauy comfort that in mourning standes Yet woman say in weeping there is glory Which mede this Lady so exceeding sory The sweete young Infant that lay all this while Vppon the Downe-bed of his mothers brest One while would crie another while did smile Alas it knew no cause of such vnrest Vnles that this did make the babie weepe To heare what howling they about him keepe Sometimes it would the tender hand vp lay And spread the fingers on the mothers face Stroking hir cheekes as Infantes vse to play But she that now for sporting had no place Weeping did wet the childe as it did lie With brinish teares which made the babe to cry Then with a napkin doth she drie his face Peace peace sweet hart thus she hir yonglinge stills He to his plaieng falles againe apace She with hir teares againe his bosome filles And with hir sobs she beates him as he lies That now the childe with ceaseles shriking cryes Alacke the tormentes that she now endueres The cruell plunges in hir hart so sore Hir husbandes death hir endles woe insures The childes fell crieng makes hir tormentes more Thus she sweete Lady is of all accurst Who sittes and sighs as if hir hart should burst The faithfull Porcia neuer sorrowed so Although hir selfe for Brutus she did kill The louing Phillis neuer felt the woe Though for Demophoon she hir selfe did spill As did Andromach for hir Hector slayne Their Death cut off hir life prolonges hir paine Panthea deplord
THE Lamentation of Troy for the death of Hector Wherevnto is annexed an Olde womans Tale in hir solitarie Cell Omne gerendum leue est LONDON Printed by Peter Short for William Mattes 1594 To the Right Honorable Sir Peregrin Bartue knight Lord of Willoughby and Earsby al increase of Honor and true happinesse I Haue presumed Right honourable vpon these three reasons to present this vnworthy pamphlet vnto your honors courteous view and fauourable protection The first is from your own noble worthinesse for that you are and are so thought the onely Hector of Albion and therfore most worthy to protect Hector The second for that it was the wil and desire of the Ghost of the woful Ghost of Ilion that in hir teares you might behold the sorrows of your owne countrey whensoeuer iniurious fates shoulde cause you miscarrie The third and last is my good Lord mine owne priuate affection wherein I haue long honoured you and hauing no place to make it knowne haue long desired to finde some opportunitie to shew the same I hope your Lordship will pardon me for that affection is a most veniall offence And if heerein I doe not honour your Lordship so much as you are worthy and I earnestlie wish yet please it you to fauour and pardon this first and as time and yeares shall enable me with a more experienced iudgement and knowledge I will studie and endeuour that which shal be more worthy your honours fauourable protection Please it you accept and I am graced and my labour richly rewarded I cease to trouble your Lordship further at this time I vow my selfe to your Lordships seruice and so most humbly take my leaue Your Honours humbly at command I. O. The Prologue WHilom to him whom Morpheus God of sleepe Made slumbring dreames his sences al to keepe Lockt in the prison of the darke some night When eares were deafe and eyes could see no light When men are made the liuely forme of death Saue onely that they softly draw a breath Did come a Ghost a ghost most gastly crying Helpe me to death that haue so long beene dying With that he wakened and with feare beholding Saw hir lament her armes togither folding A pale-wan thing and yet with wounds fresh bleeding Sodden in teares in teares that were exceeding He much afright began to shrinke for feare She bad him feare not but my story heare I am Troys ghost that now appeares to thee And well I know that thou hast heard of me But now I come not what I was to tell For what I was alas each one knowes wel I come to thee to craue thy gentle ayde To further her that hath so long beene staide From blissefull rest because I haue not told My woes for Hector which I must vnfold But that alasse am I not able euer To shew alone without the kind endeuor Of some good wight that can bewaile with me And tell my tale while I shall weeping be The churlish Charon thwarts my passage ouer Saying my soule shal neuer blisse recouer Till I haue doone this weary taske imposed Neuer my ghost shal be in rest reposed O helpe me then to tell my doleful story That I at last may cease to be so sory First will I speake and to the world declare For Hectors death mine euerlasting care So long til teares doe stop my faltring tong And when I cease I pray thee tell along He then accorded to hir pitteous sute Granting to speake when teares did make hir mute So that she would lay open to his eies The cause and manner of hir wofull cries Then forth with causde she vnto him appeare The forme of Troy the persons that were there Chiefest mourners for worthy Hectors death As they then wailde when fates new stopt his breath He then emboldende stoutly veiwd them all And tels her tale when she from speach doth fall Writing their words vnto the world to shew them It was her will that he might so renew them Yet had she rather Spencer would haue told them For him she calde that he would helpe t' vnfold them But when she saw he came not at hir call She kept hir first man that doth shew them all All that he could but all can no man shew But first she spake as after doth ensew Troys Lamentation for the death of Hector LO here the teares and sad complaint of her Within whose gates all ioyes were once abounding Faire Ilions teares whose deepe laments may stir A flintie hart vnto a sigh-resounding Yet for hir selfe doth Ilion not mone But for hir Hector which is dead and gone Sweet sacred Muses you whose gentle eares Are wont to listen to the humble praier Of plaining Poets and to lend your teares From your faire eies vnto a woes-displayer Now rest your selues your ayde I not implore For in my selfe I finde aboundant store Nor can I craue vpon your blubbered cheeks That you for me more showers should be raining Though you are kind to euery one that seekes Yet haue you matter for your owne complaining I saw your teares and pittifull wamentings But they are few that list to your lamentings Good naturde Nymphs you are too milde for me Troy tels of horror and of driery things Let your faire ayde in Loue and Musick be Or in his tongue which pleasant Poems sings Furies and Frensies are fit companie To helpe to blase my wofull tragedie The damned Soules that liue in lasting paine Whose endlesse torments force them to be yelling Sounds euer balefull and whose bane againe Is that in torture they are euer dwelling Their sighes and shrikes accompanie full well My trembling toong this greeuous tale to tell Snake-wreath'd Alecto and Megaera railing Howling Tisiphon euermore lamenting With all that vgly is or else still wailing Their cursed haps and are deepe hell frequenting Such as breath sulphur in eternal groning They are companions fitting to my moning Stone rowling Sisiphus in his wearie taske And thirstie Tantalus in his riuer biding And wofull Yxyon al these might I aske To be with shrikes my drery penne a guiding But I my selfe suffice without assistance If soules effusion be sufficient greeuance Hector thou knowst or else thy soule doth know For thou alas art Hector now no more Haue Troy ten thousand soules she will bestow Them all on thee and powre them out before The throne of Ioue for mercy euer calling For ah thy ruine was our vtter falling But why alas must thou needs die so soone Troys cheefe-supporter and the worlds great-wonder O let the man that thee to death hath doone From deaths fel torments neare be seene asunder O let him euer die yet not be slaine But when he would be dead reuiue againe Heape on him torments and ore-whelme with woes Hels Queene Proserpina this I begge of thee And if there be some wights thou countst thy foes O with those plagude ones let him placed be Or if there be a place that 's worse than hel Grant
Hector and Helen shew that cannot be Why do they then such mightie buildings reare Making in clay their liues aeternitie Knowing not when they can no longer last Fame dies with them and honour all doth wast Then let him liue for euer and in honour Riding triumphant in fames golden Carre That holdes the pen and sword so high in fauour And by his bounty guerdons both so farre As when the pen hath regestred his fame The sword hath sworne for ay to guard the same O let that man for euer be adornd Build him a temple on Pernassus hill Sing of him muses whom he neuer scornd Sound war like trumpets with his glory fill The empty aire together blase his fame That loues you both O euer praise his name But now is Helen weeping all this while No worlds delight can make hir leaue lamenting Hir hart of griefe is now become an Anuile Sorrow doth bed and sighs are still tormenting Then in plunges of a pained sprite She sayd to Hector thus and bad me write Ay me sweete Hector how am I tormented The fulnes of wrath is powrd downe on me If euer womans state was yet lamented Mine may be waild that now bevvaileth thee O might I die I should heauens ire fulfill But now they make me liue to plague me still They make me liue to see sweet Hector dead This is the torment wherewithall they greeue me A greater plague could not hang ore my head And that they knew for nothing can releeue me Vnlesse they will restore thy life againe Whom they in anger haue vntimely slaine But ah they did it for my lasting paine Framing a torture to endure for euer This was procurde by Iunos iel`ous braine Who works my woe by strength of great endeuour Only bycause she went without the ball That Venus got thus doth she plague vs all And now thou dearling of the world most deare By thee it is she works hir high despight Stopping the passage of those beamys cleare By which thy life did lend thine eies their light Then giuing out in hir hate most enuious That Helen was cause to make me odious Thus doe I liue of all the world despisde The Troyans harts doe inwardlie repine And though their formes be outwardlie misguisde Their thoughts perswade them that the fault was mine That this our flower our piller and our staie Did fade did fall through death did flit away But Hector now I doe appeale to thee And vnto witnesse doe I call thy ghost If thou vvert not as dearelie lou'de of me As of the wight that could affect thee most While thou didst liue I lou'd thy vertues euer And since thy death my hart al ioyes doth seuer O speake Andromach and Hecuba speake How did my soule it selfe to sorrow yeeld When we with him in weeping tearmes did breake Touching the dreame diswading him the field How did poore Helen his life then beg with you As with your selues his death she vvaileth now For who alasse hath greater cause to mourne And in continuall teares lament his death Streaming a tide that neuer doth returne Then she to whom his life vvas liuing breath For though through Troy a deadly smart be found Yet mine is most who neerlie seeks the wound The Gods conspirde it vvas not Helens fault That Hector dies or if that Troy shall burne Iuno from heauen poore Ilion doth assault And all hir force against it doth she turne Who warres vvith Gods and comes not to the worst Then Iunos cause that Troy decayeth first Venus besides commaunded me to come And sent hir Cupid to prepare the vvay Then how vniustlie am I blamde by some Saying Helen the vvhore wrought Troys decay For if the Gods decreed it thus before It vvas their vvils and Helen is no whore But vvho vvould think that heauens should malice bear That their perfection should admit of anger An ouglie forme ingendring gastlie feare A monster foule presaging nought but danger Who vvould suppose so huge vile a beast To lie and harbour in a Goddesse brest Yet this did Iuno foster in hir lap Iuno vniust both vnto Troy and me And in hir mallice hath she laid a trap How Troy should perish and I torturde be Which both are done by cutting Hector short Troys onlie Castle Helens chiefest fort With that she vveeping wrung hir hands and cride Hector O Hector this was all she said Then did she seat hir by hir sisters side Where still she vveepes but then hir speech was staide Sorrovve forst silence griefe ore-came hir hart And thus a saint did act an hellish part The Troyan Nobles all lamented there In sable garments fitting to their woe Deiphobus and Troylus with a heauie cheere For Hectors death doe wander to and fro The people too doe make a dolefull noise And call on Hector iointly in one voice Hector O Hector from a troubled spirit They crie amaine as if they would him pull From death to life and bring his eies to light Which now was sunke into his hollovv scul Hector O Hector Hector thus they crie Who being dead they all do seeme to die Then doe they vvalke all mal-content about From place to place not knovving where to rest Sometime they stand and giue a monstrous shout Like to the yell of a many-headed beast And then returne to Hector vvhere he lies The men in grones the Women in outcries Like to the kinde and louing naturde Bees That swarme togither if but one be greeued Which leaues his hiue and seeketh hollovv trees They fly with him and looke he be releeued Humming they mourne as if they felt his greefe So they can sorrow but lend no releefe Then as a Ram that doeth retire back To make returne with greater violent force So wil these folks their cries outragious slacke And go lamenting still from Hectors corse Till by and by they will returne againe Shriking in teares like thunderclaps in raine Or like the billovv beating on the shore That fals off gentlie making little noise But when he comes againe doth rage so sore As men far off may heare his raging voice Swelling vvith fome through Aeolus puffing pride So do they yell when they 're by Hectors side They vveep they waile they mourn they fret with anger They sweare they vow reuenge for Hectors sake Their harts are boldned through their present danger Although for greefe they driery wailings make Thus al amasde they wander to and fro His life did please his death did irke them so They curse Achilles in this bitter rage They frowne they grin their teeth they sternly whet Like desperate men they say nought shal asswage Their ire but bloud on bloud they al are set But why do we Achilles name They say Which heauens pollutes darks the brightsom day Alas poore Troy what wight can ere bewaile And not lacke words to write thy great lamentings To tell thy vvoes euen Ieremie might faile That writ so well Ierusalems wamentings For who can