Part II

Bright beauty's goddess. Aphrodite styl'd,
From whitest froth of the sea billows sprung,
O Jove's most lovely, best-beloved child.
Who evermore continuest fresh and young.
Assistant be to that which here is sung.
And guide my Muse, which now the land forsakes,
And to the stormy seas herself betakes.

Sweet-singing Sirens, you who so enchant
The pilot and the list'ning mariner,
As the one's head, the other's hand doth want
Abilities the rudder for to steer.
Receive a beauty to you without peer.
That puts to sea, whose orient teeth and lips
Doth shed your coral, and your pearl eclipse.

For now the Druid took her in his arms,
Which never yet so sweet a burthen bore,
Waving his rod with strange and hideous charms,
Whilest near the water he stood on the shore,
A spectacle appear'd ne'er seen before :
For Amphitrite, the great Queen of Seas,
Appear'd with twelve Sea-Nymphs, Nereides.

Here I should tell you how this glorious Queen
Sate in a chariot, no man's eye e'er saw
So rare a one ; her robes were of sea-green,
Her coach four Hippopotami did draw,
Who fear'd no gust, nor tempests' angry flaw.
But to describe things now I cannot stand,
I haste to finish what I have in hand.

Three steps into the sea the Druid wading.
The sleeping Princess to the coach he heaves,
Who proud to be enricht with such a lading.
Her Amphitrite joyfully receives.
With whom old Morrogh such directions leaves
As needful were, whither, and in what sort
She should the beauteous Sydanis transport.

Leaving the firth whereas black Durdwye's streams,
Swifter than shafts shot from the Russ's bow,
Do enter and invade King Neptune's reams,
Justling the surly waves when as they flow.
Under Hilbree's high craggy cliffs doth row,
The sea's fair Queen, whom Tritons do attend.
While towards the main sea she her course doth bend.

The sea-bred steeds so swiftly cut the main,
As that the sight of every land was lost.
But a glass being turn'd, they see again
The island Mona's solitary coast,
Who of her learned Bards may justly boast
In music, and in prophecies deep skill'd,
Who with sweet Englens all the world had fill'd.

And as the sun arose, they did descry
The lofty cliffs of the high head of Hoth,
A rocky promontory, which doth lie
Near Erinland, white with sea-billows' froth.
Here Amphitrite (though exceeding loath)
Was by the Druid Morrogh's strict command,
Her dearest lovely charge to set on land.

But yet before such time she would do so,
She sends three Sea-Nymphs down into the deep,
To bring her up such treasures from below,
As under rocks the wealthy Sea-gods keep.
Now all this while was Sydanis asleep,
And dream't that she was in some tempest tost.
And ship-wrack't, she and all her goods were lost.

But dreams fall out by contraries ; for why ?
The Sea-Nymphs with more speed than can be told,
Returning, brought from Neptune's treasury
A large heap of a wrecked Merchant's gold,
More than a page's pockets well could hold.
The second coral brought : the third, a piece
Of the sea's richest treasure, Ambergris.

Last, the sea's Empress, for to testify
How much her love and bounty did abound,
A rope of orient pearl did straight untie.
Which thrice her ivory neck encircled round,
Such as in deepest southern seas are found.
These pearls she knit on Sydanis her wrist,
And having done, a thousand times her kist.

Then raining tears upon her curled head,
Which was on Amphitrite's bosom laid.
She wept o'er Sydanis as she were dead :
So much sleep (death's resemblance) her dismayed,
As that a man that saw them would have said,
That once more there was really again
Venus, and in her lap Adonis slain.

The sad Nereides with mournful cheer,
Taking their leaves, do kiss her whitest hand,
Grieving to leave her, whom they held so dear.
And now as they approached near the strand,
Within some dozen steps of the dry land,
Down div'd the Hippopotami : the Queen,
Her chariot, horses, Nymphs, no more were seen.

Fair Sydanis now left to swim or sink,
Ashore the surges of the billows threw ;
Who therewith waking, verily did think.
That what she dream't had really bin true ;
The manner of her coming she not knew,
But howsoever, although cold and wet,
She was right glad she was on dry land set.

There not full half an hour she did abide,
Wond'ring how she such gold and pearl had got,
But by a fisherman she was espied,
Who saw her page's cloak and bonnet float
Upon the waves, and towards her with his boat
(Taking them up) all possible speed he makes.
And Sydanis into his skiff he takes.

Two leagues thence distant was a famous port
Of a great city, that Eplana hight,
Where Dermot King of Erin held his court,
Attended on by many a Lord and Knight :
To whom the fisherman told in what plight
He on the shore a shipwreckt youth had found.
And how the rest o' th' passengers were drown'd.

When as King Dermot Sydanis beheld.
It doubtful was whether his admiration
Of her rare face, which others all excell'd,
Was greater, or his tender sad compassion
Of her mishap, which gave to him occasion
His royal bounty tow'rds her to express.
And to relieve her wants in this distress.

Desiring therefore first to have her name,
She told him that her name Amanthis was,
Page to a British Prince, who as he came
For Erinland (such was his woful case)
Was drown'd, as he those stormy seas did pass,
And that except her page's only suit.
She was of means and all things destitute.

The royal Dermot forthwith gave command,
She should have anything that he could grant.
And now because the King did understand,
His only princely daughter Mellefant,
Of such a page at that time stood in want,
He to her chamber did Amanthis send,
The high-born lovely Princess to attend.

The fair attendant by King Dermot sent.
The noble Princess kindly doth receive,
Whose page-like and discreet deportement,
Was such as no one did her sex perceive.
Now as a page Amanthis we must leave.
With the fair Princess Mellefant to dwell,
And you shall hear what Leoline befell.

Dionea early rising in the dark,
Sets open wide the opal ports of day,
In night's black tinder putting out each spark.
That twinkling shone with a faint flaring ray.
And now Nyctimene was flown away.
To the dark covert of a hollow tree,
Unwilling Phoebus' brightest beams to see.

The glorious rays of the next morning's light,
Which from the eastern ocean arose.
The dismal deeds of the preceding night
To the world's view were ready to disclose :
And Night unable longer to oppose
Bright Phoebus, or such things in secret keep,
Down sinking div'd into the western deep.

The sun's swift coursers upwards making haste,
From his first house in the east horizon,
Had now two more supernal mansions past,
And to the entrance of the third were gone,
Ere any of these things in Court had known.
But when nor Prince, nor Princess did appear,
Each one admir'd why they not stirring were.

King Arvon and Duke Leon gave command,
A page should to the Prince's chamber go,
And instantly should let them understand.
If that Prince Leoline were well or no :
And why his rising he deferred so.
The page he went, and finding the door lockt,
Softly at first, then louder call'd and knockt.

But when within, no answer he could hear,
Nor voice of any one that to him spoke ;
The page unto the King relates his fear.
Who straight commands that with a mighty stroke
Of iron bars the door should down be broke.
Which having done, and broken down the door,
A dismal sight lay on the chamber floor.

For there the aged Nurse along was laid,
Cold and stretcht out, as one that were stark dead,
In all Prince Leoline's best clothes array'd.
Which sight not only fear, but wonder bred.
The King and Duke straight went unto the bed,
And opening the curtains, there alone
The Prince lay dead, but Princess there was none.

Tearing their hairs with lamentable groans,
These two sad parents' eyes with tears abound :
The King his son ; Duke Leon he bemoans
His daughter's loss, who nowhere could be found.
Men search for her above and under ground,
But all in vain : for she (you heard) was gone
The night before to Erinland, unknown.

The ports are stop't : they search each boat and bark,
Thinking that in some ship they might her find :
But that unlikely was, when as they mark
How that contrary blew the north-west wind,
Yet this her absence to King Arvon's mind
Was evidence enough it could not be,
That any one had kill'd the Prince but she.

Now as before a storm, the clouded sky
Blackens and darkens, sullenly it lowers,
Ere that the dreadful thunderer from on high
Roars in the clouds, and on the earth down pours
Another dismal cataclysm of showers,
Even so King Arvon's countenance did betoken
A storm of words, which afterwards were spoken.

For in the word of an enraged King,
(Whose fatal anger is assured death)
He vow'd he would upon Duke Leon bring
Confusion ; for his sword he would unsheathe.
Which ne'er should be put up whil'st he had breath,
Until that he a just revenge should take,
For Sydanis his murderous daughter's sake.

You must imagine more than shall be said.
Touching Duke Leon's grief and his reply,
Unto whose charge a Prince's death was laid,
Against all laws of hospitality :
He told King Arvon that he did defy
His threats, and being free from all offence,
He knew Heaven would protect his innocence.

Leaving Carleon, back the King return'd
Unto Carnarvon castle, with intent.
That since that he and all his Court now mourn'd,
The Prince's body thither should be sent.
To lay him by his ancestors he meant.
Whose funeral should not be long deferr'd,
But he with all solemnity interr'd.

Among these troubles and distractions,
That 'twixt King Arvon and Duke Leon fell,
The caitiff Marquis Foutre, all whose actions
Were form'd by some infernal fiend in hell.
Had learn'd, there was a Druid that could tell
Men's fortunes, and whate'er they did demand.
Could give a resolution out of hand.

To Morrogh went this Foutre for to 'know
The place to which fair Sydanis was fled,
And whether that she living was or no :
If not, and that she certainly was dead,
He needs would know where she was buried.
To whom the Druid with a countenance grave,
Waving his wand, this sudden answer gave :

' Know, Frenchman, if to satisfy thy lust
Of that fair Lady, whom thou dost pursue,
Thou do intend, to Erinland thou must :
There thou may'st find her, and thy suit renew.'
But seeing that the wind contrary blew,
Foutre demanded, ' Hast thou not a kind
Of trick in magic for to sell a wind ? '

' Yea,' quoth the Druid, ' ere thou hence depart,
That I am my Art's master thou shalt know.
And am no ignorant in magic art ;
For knots that on thy handkercher I'll throw.
Untied shall cause that any wind shall blow.
Or strong or gently ; and as thou dost please.
Shall waft thy ship or bark along the seas.'

On Foutre's handkercher three knots he knits.
Which when he was at sea should be untied :
This done, forthwith the Druid's cell he quits,
And to the haven of Carleon hied,
Himself there of such shipping to provide.
As at that time the haven did afford,
Where having got a ship he went aboard.

Untying the first knot, the wind, whose blast
Was contrary unto his going out.
And blew ahead, now blew abaft as fast,
And was upon the sudden come about :
Which caused all the mariners to doubt
That they had got a passenger, whose art
Had no relation to the seaman's chart.

The second knot unknit the merry gales.
The vessel's linen wings her sails did spread.
Which having past the dangerous coast of Wales,
Was sailing now athwart the Holy-head.
The skippers, without sinking of their lead.
Upon a sudden now are come so nigh
To Erinland, that they it do descry.

Here Foutre was the third knot to untie,
Who thought he had the winds at his dispose.
But having loos'd that knot, immediately
So hideous a storm at sea arose,
As if each several wind that fiercely blows
From two and thirty points at sea, had met,
Contending who the sovereignty should get.

The mariners observing that the storm
From any natural cause proceeded not,
Noting withal the superstitious form
And manner of untying of the knot,
Which now this raging tempest had begot,
Ready to sink with every stormy blast,
Marquis Jean Foutre overboard they cast.

No sooner was the miscreant thrown in.
And in the bottom drown'd, but straight the seas
Were calm again, as if the wretch had bin
A sacrifice, their anger to appease.
So that it did the Fatal Sisters please
That he that tied one knot, in the conclusion,
Should by another come unto confusion.

The mariners now with a prosperous blast,
Their sea-toss'd vessel towards Carleon guide,
Which there I leave, all dangers being past,
At anchor m the harbour safe to ride :
For I must tell what fortune did betide
Unto Prince Leoline, whose various fate
Makes the strange story that I shall relate.

Twice had pale Phoebe in her silver wain.
Drawn with fell dragons, rode her nightly round,
Since that the prince with his face bare had lain.
Within an open coffin yet unwound
In's winding sheet, his hands and feet not bound,
That when a prince was dead all men might see
And know for certainty, that it was he.

Now the third night, which was the night before
The Prince's body was to be convey'd
Unto Carnarvon, there were half a score
Of knights and squires in mourning black array'd,
That watching by the Prince's body stay'd,
Who being fore-wak't they could no longer keep
Their eyelids open, but fell all asleep.

Just at the hour of night the Prince did take
The potion which the Druid did compose,
Out of dead sleep did Leoline awake,
And like a ghost out of the coffin rose,
Which erst his princely body did enclose :
For now the potion had no more a force
To make a living prince a seeming corse.

For it was but a soporiferous potion.
Made of cold nightshade's, gladials', poppies' juice,
Which for a while supprest all sense and motion,
And of his members took away the use,
By a narcotic power it did infuse,
Which could no longer work on Leoline
But till the Moon pass'd to another sign.

Nor ought this to seem strange, since as we read,
Inhabitants of the cold frozen zone,
Call'd Leucomori, for six months seem dead ;
For as for sense or motion they have none.
And so remain till Phoebus having gone
Through the six southern signs, salutes the Twins,
At which time yearly their new life begins.

But pass we this : The Prince in dead of night.
Finding that those that should have watcht him slept,
Took up the morter, by whose small dim light
He silently unto the chamber stept
Of an esquire, who all his wardrobe kept,
Whom he in all important things employ'd,
And most relied upon : his name was Ffloyd.

Coming now near, and waking the esquire,
Whose hair for fear began upright to stand,
Thinking he saw a ghost, but coming nigher,
The Prince upon him gently laid his hand,
And beck'ned as he silence would command ;
Then putting on a suit he lately wore,
They both at midnight went to the sea shore.

Who being now informed by the way
Of all the accidents that had fallen out,
He durst no longer in Carleon stay ;
Duke Leon's faithfulness he did misdoubt,
Who (as he did conceive) had gone about
To poison him, and would some plot contrive,
That might of life him utterly deprive.

No sooner were they come, but there they found
(Even as they wisht) then ready to hoise sail
A vessel that for Erinland was bound.
They so far with the mariners prevail.
To take them in ; of which they did not fail :
And now the wind so large was, that ere day,
The ship quite out of sight was flown away.

Prince Leoline being loath it should be known,
What either he, or his associate were,
Desir'd the skippers, that they two alone,
On the next coast or creek that did appear,
Row'd in their cock-boat, might be landed there.
The mariners accordingly it did,
And the meantime the ship at anchor rid.

As they were ready for to set their feet
Upon dry land, and so to take their way.
Upon the shore a ghastly sight they meet,
For there Jean Foutre's drowned body lay,
In the same clothes, and in the same array,
He on the Prince's wedding day had worn.
Whose face and hands fishes had eat and torn.

The Prince approaching nearer for to view
The sea-drown'd carcass, which he had descried ;
That it was Foutre, instantly he knew ;
For on his breast his bridal point he spied,
Which Leoline forthwith took and untied,
Unwilling that the mariners should have
A thing he as his wedding favour gave.

The magic knot undone by fortune strange,
And by this sad and yet glad accident,
In Leoline did work a sudden change :
For though it was undone with no intent,
But such as hath bin said ; yet the event
Was such, and did so happily succeed.
He from th' enchanted ligature was freed.

The jewels, gold, and silver that he found,
Among the seamen he distributed ;
Who making of a poor hole in the ground,
Such as is made for felons being dead,
(Who by the highway-side are buried)
jean Foutre's body they stark naked strip.
Which done they back do row unto their ship.

Prince Leoline and his esquire Ffloyd
In Erinland being safely set on shore,
The better all suspicion to avoid.
Would not unto Eblana come, before
They had conceal'd themselves a week or more :
In the meantime they purpose to devise
A way how they might pass in some disguise.

Which while they are contriving, you shall hear
King Arvon and Duke Leon's sad estate,
Who equally in grief engaged were.
And equally did one another hate :
With swords they mean the business to debate,
And thereupon make preparation,
One for defence, the other for invasion.

For when the servants that King Arvon sent,
Missing the body, all about had sought,
And could by no means find which way it went,
Returning to the King they nothing brought
But only this conjecture, that they thought
Duke Leon (on whom all the blame they lay)
Whilest they did sleep, had stolen the corpse away,

And buried it obscurely in some place.
Where never any one should find his grave.
Th' enraged King resenting this disgrace.
And now perceiving that he might not have
His son alive, nor dead, he straightway gave
Commissions forth an army to assemble,
Should make Carleon's city walls to tremble.

'Tis hard to say, whether was greater grown,
King Arvon's anger, or Duke Leon's grief;
On whom those black aspersions were thrown,
First of a murderer, and then a thief :
His patience yet (exceeding all belief)
And fortitude, were greater than his wrongs,
Or the foul malice of all slanderous tongues.

So now it hap't as Leon went alone
To Venus' temple, and at midnight pray'd,
Down in that very vault he heard one groan,
Wherein two nights before the Nurse was laid :
Then afterwards he heard a voice, which said,
'Oh when will it be day? When will the light
Disperse the darkness of this endless night ? '

The Duke at first amazed, recollects
His fear-dispersed spirits, and before
That he would speak, he earnestly expects
To hear what the sad ghost would utter more :
Whom he perceived wept, and sighed sore:
Which made him on it such compassion take,
As that forthwith the vault he open brake.

And bowing down into the grot, he said,
' If thou a soul leaving th' Elysian rest,
Art back return'd, whereas thy corpse is laid,
To bring some comfort to a Prince distrest.
And with all manner injuries opprest ;
Then in the dead more mercy doth abound.
Than here among the living can be found.

For thou wilt tell me whether bale or bliss
Be now the sad condition or glad state
Of my late dear deceased Sydanis,
And where and how she yielded to her fate :
All which, I pray thee, gentle ghost, relate,
And ease my heavy heart, opprest with grief,
Which among mortals can find no relief.'

Grief hath few words. Th' amazed Nurse that heard
Duke Leon's words, and knew it was his voice ;
Of the vault's darkness being much afear'd,
And the dead silence where there was no noise;
Not knowing if she wak't, or dream't, the choice
That she did make, was rather to conceal
Herself awhile, than anything reveal.

And therefore that opinion to maintain,
And fancy in Duke Leon, of a ghost
From the Elysian shades return'd again.
And had now twice the Stygian ferry crost.
To seek that body it before had lost ;
She in a piteous voice Duke Leon told,
As yet she might not anything unfold.

For Minos, Eacus, and Rhadamant,
The three grim Judges of th' infernal Court,
Would not unto the ghosts a licence grant.
The secrets of the dark world to report ;
But to their tombs they nightly must resort,
Till seven nights were past, and there must stay
Till the cock's crow before the break of day.

But if that he on the eighth night would come
About the hour of twelve, when ghosts appear,
And call upon her at the silent tomb,
Of all things he the certainty should hear
Where Leoline and his fair daughter were.
And be inform'd of everything he crav'd,
And what the Fates on leaves of steel had grav'd.

The Duke expecting at that time no more,
Up from the vault he silently arose,
Forgetting now to shut the temple door.
Unto his palace back again he goes ;
And now the Nurse ere that the first cock crows.
Stole from the vault, and in her winding sheet,
Went to a beldam's house in a by-street.

Who being a lone woman, was most fit
To keep her close, and what she had design'd ;
Unto whose trust herself she doth commit.
And told to the old beldam all her mind ;
Intending that as soon as she could find
An opportunity, she would go thence
To Morrogh, to get more intelligence.

Through darkness of the third ensuing night.
To the learn'd Druid Morrogh's cell she went,
Clad like a soldier, in a buff coat dight,
With hat, sword, gorget. This habiliment
Her hostess the old beldam to her lent,
Whose husband being a soldier long before,
Under Duke Leon, in his lifetime wore.

Attired thus in habit of a man,
When she before the reverend Druid came,
To counterfeit men's gesture she began :
And to appear that she was not the same
She was, she altered her voice and name,
Thinking that Morrogh knew not who she was.
But that she for a soldier well might pass.

But he well knowing she did counterfeit,
And to delude his cunning had a mind,
Resolved her finenesses should be met,
And quitted back to her in their own kind :
' Soldier,' quoth he, ' I by my skill do find,
Prince Leoline and Sydanis are fled.
And Merioneth, her old nurse, is dead.

More of the Princes I cannot unfold;
But by my art I certainly do know.
That ere three days be past, thou shalt behold
Carleon city walls beleagured so.
That out of it alive there none shall go;
By famine brought to that extremity,
As that the Duke himself thereof would die.

But such a horrid death I must prevent.
And for thou seem'st one of Duke Leon's guard.
Tell him that I to him by thee have sent
An amulet by chymic art prepar'd,
Whose virtue told, will purchase thy reward,
For if that one but touch his lips with it,
'Twill satisfy the hungry appetite.'

The skilful Druid gave no more direction,
Nor of the secret properties more spake,
Of the Epimenidial confection.
The seeming-soldier doth the present take.
And towards Carleon all post-haste doth make,
Intending that if possible she may,
She would be back before the break of day.

But ere 'twas day. King Arvon's legions were
So far advanc'd, as that he sent a scout
To make discovery if the foe were near,
Or that there were any ambushment without.
Now as the swift vaunt-couriers rode about
As sentinel perdu, the Nurse they caught,
And to King Arvon instantly her brought.

Who forthwith gave command she should be sent
Unto Carnarvon, and there should be cast
Into the deepest dungeon, to th' intent
That she in links of iron fettered fast,
Being hunger-starv'd to death, should breathe her last.
His angry doom is straight accomplished,
And to Carnarvon is Merioneth led;

Of all poor creatures most unfortunate :
For while that in the dungeon she did lie,
She with herself did oftentimes debate,
Whether was better, hunger-starv'd to die,
Or for to take the Druid's remedy,
'Twould but prolong her misery to use it,
And it was present death for to refuse it,

But here I leave her and King Arvon's host
Carleon city walls besieging round.
My tale must follow them, who having crost
The British seas, for Erinland were bound.
Where Leoline fair Sydanis hath found,
But so transform'd, as (though he did her see)
He little did suspect that it was she.