Are cruel wailings heard, on every side

Is fear, with countless images of death. 365. M. How now, you secret, black and midnight hags;

What is't you do? C. A deed without a name.
M. I conjure you, by that which you profess
(Howe'er you came to know it), answer me:
Though you untie the winds, and let them fight
Against the churches; though the yesty waves
Confound and swallow navigation up;
Though bladed corn be lodg'd, and trees blown

Though castles topple on their warders' heads;
Though palaces and pyramids do slope
Their heads to their foundations ; though the treasure
Of nature's germins tumble all together,
Even till destruction sicken, answer me

To what I ask you.
366. Methought I saw my late espoused saint

Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,
Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,
Rescu'd from death by force, though pale and faint.
Mine (as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed taint
Purification in the old law did save,
And such, as yet once more I trust to have
Full sight of her in heaven without restraint)
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind :
Her face was veild, yet to my fancied sight
Love, sweetness, goodness in her person shin'd,
So clear, as in no face with more delight.
But oh! as to embrace me she inclin'd,

I wak’d, she fled, and day brought back my night. 367. Before, I was secure 'gainst death and hell,

But now am subject to the heartless fear
Of ev'ry shadow and of every breath,

And would change firmness with an aspen leaf;
So confident a spotless conscience is,
So weak a guilty. O the dangerous siege.
Sin lays about us, and the tyranny
He exercises when he hath expugn'd!
Like to the horror of a winter's thunder
Mix'd with a gushing storm (that suffer nothing
To stir abroad on earth but their own rages)
Is sin when it hath gather'd head above us :
No roof, no shelter can secure us so

But he will drown our cheeks in fear or woe. 368. Y. Is all our travail turn’d to this effect?

After the slaughter of so many peers,
So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers,
That in this quarrel have been overthrown,
And sold their bodies for their country's benefit,
Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace ?
Have we not lost most part of all the towns,
By treason, falsehood, and by treachery,
Our great progenitors had conquered ?-
O Warwick, Warwick, I foresee with grief
The utter loss of all the realm of France.
W. Be patient, York: if we conclude a peace,
It shall be with such strict and severe covenants,

As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby. 369. C. While he is yet alive, he may be slain ;

But from the dead no flesh comes back again.
S. While he remains alive, I live in fear.
C. Though he were dead, that doubt still living

S. None hath the power to end what he begun.
C. The same occasion follows every son.
S. Their greatness, or their worth, is not so much.
C. And shall the best be slain for being such ?
S. Thy mother or thy brother are amiss.
C. My mother, if she errs, errs virtuously.

S. Kings for their safety must not blame mistrust.
C. Nor for surmises sacrifice the just.
S. Well, dear Camena, keep this secretly:

I will be well advis'd before he die.
370. Seem not too conscious of thy worth, nor be

The first that knows thine own sufficiency.
If to thy king and country thy true care
More serviceable is than others are
That blaze in court, and every action sway
As if the kingdom on their shoulders lay;
Or if thou serv’st a master, and dost see
Others preferr'd of less desert than thee,
Do not complain, though such a plaint be true;
Lords will not give their favours as a due :
But rather stay and hope. It cannot be
But men at last must needs thy virtues see;
So shall thy trust endure, and greater grow ;

Whilst they that are above thee fall below. 371. Thus, as he spoke, the anchorite's son soar'd up the

glowing heaven afar; In air his heavenly body shone, while stood he in his

gorgeous car. But they of that lost boy so dear the last ablution

meetly made; Then spoke to me that holy seer, with folded hands

above his head : “ Albeit by thy unknowing dart my blameless boy un

timely fell, A curse I lay upon thy heart, whose fearful pain I

know too well: As, sorrowing for my son, I bow, and yield up my

unwilling breath; So, sorrowing for thy son, shalt thou at life's last

close repose in death." 372. C. But had we best retire? I see a storm.

S. Fair days have oft contracted wind and rain.

C. But this another kind of tempest brings.
S. Be less abstruse; my riddling days are past.
C. Look now for no enchanting voice, nor fear
The bait of honey'd words; a rougher tongue
Draws hitherward; I know him by his stride,
The giant Harapha of Gath, his look
Haughty, as is his pile high-built and proud.
Comes he in peace? What wind hath blown him

hither .
I less conjecture, than when first I saw
The sumptuous Dalila floating this way :
His habit carries peace, his brow defiance.
S. Or peace, or not, alike to me he comes.

C. His fraught we soon shall know, he now arrives. 373. I reach'd the distant Hyperborean state,

The wealthy race, at whose high banquet sate
Perseus the hero. On those wide-stretch'd plains
Ride the Massagetæ, giving the reins
To their fleet coursers, skilful with the bow.
And then I came to the stupendous flow
Of Campasus, who pours his mighty tide
To th' ocean sea, eternally supplied.
Thence to islands clad with olives green and young,
With many a tufted bulrush overhung.
A giant race, half man, half dog, live there:
Beneath their shoulders grow the heads they wear;
Jaws long and lank, and grisly tusk they bear:
Much foreign tongues they learn, and can indite ;

But when they strive to speak, they bark outright. 374. There was the weight that pulld me down. O

The king has gone beyond me, all my glories
In that one woman I have lost for ever:
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,
Or gild again the noble troops that waited

Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now
To be thy lord and master. Seek the king;
That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him
What, and how true thou art: he will advance

Some little memory of me will stir him
(I know his noble nature) not to let
Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell,
Neglect him not; make use now, and provide

For thine own future safety.
375. Crete in mid ocean lies, great Jove's own isle.

There is a mount nam’d Ida; and there too
The cradle of our race. The Cretans boast
A hundred cities large, with fertile realms.
Thence, if traditions I recall aright,
Teucer, our fam'd forefather, first arriv'd
On the Rhætean coasts, and chose the seat
Of his new kingdom. Not erected then
Was Ilion with its towers. In humble vales
The people dwelt. Hence, the soil's patroness,
Came mother Cybele; hence rose her band
Of Corybantes with their cymbals loud,
And her Idæan grove. Hence was maintain’d
That faithful silence in her sacred rites :

Hence her imperial car yok'd lions drew.
376. C. What damned fury hath possess'd our queen?

Why sit we still beholding her distress ?
Madam, forbear, suppress this headstrong rage.
G. Maidens, forbear your comfortable words.
C. O worthy queen, rashness doth overthrow
The author of this resolution.
G. When hope of help is lost, what booteth fear?
C. Fear will avoid the stain of infamy,
G. May good or bad reports delight the dead ?

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