Appendix.

Thus to him began The Cloud-Assembler: Thou most crafty Man, That ioy’st to steale my fire, deceiuing Me, Shalte feele that Ioy the greater griefe to thee; And therein plague thy vniuersall Race: To whom Ile giue a pleasing ill, in place Of that good fire: And all shall be so vaine To place their pleasure in embracing paine. Thus spake, and laught, of Gods and Men the Sire; And straight enioyn’d the famous God of fire To mingle instantly, with Water, Earth; The voyce, and vigor, of a humane Birth Imposing in it; And so faire a face, As matcht th’ Immortall Goddesses in grace: Her forme presenting a most louely Maid: Then on Minerua his Command he laid, To make her worke, and wield the wittie loome: And (for her Beauty) such as might become The Golden Venus, He commanded Her Vpon her Browes and Countenance to conferre Her own Bewitchings: stuffing all her Breast With wilde Desires, incapable of Rest; And Cares, [280] that feed to all satiety All human Lineaments. The Crafty spy, And Messenger of Godheads, Mercury He charg’d t’ informe her with a dogged Minde, And theeuish Manners. All as he design’d Was put in act. A Creature straight had frame Like to a Virgine; Milde and full of Shame: Which Ioue’s Suggestion made the [281]both-foot lame Forme so deceitfully; And all of Earth To forge the liuing Matter of her Birth. Gray-ey’d Minerua Put her Girdle on; And show’d how loose parts, wel-composed, shone. The deified Graces, And [282]the Dame that sets Sweet words in chiefe forme, Golden [283]Carquenets Embrac’d her Neck withall; the faire-haird Howers Her gracious Temples crown’d, with fresh spring-flowers; But all of these, imploy’d in seuerall place, Pallas gaue Order; the impulsiue grace. Her bosome, Hermes, the great God of spies, With subtle fashions fill’d; faire words and lies; Ioue prompting still. But all the voyce she vs’d The vocall Herald of the Gods infus’d; And call’d her name Pandora; Since on Her The Gods did all their seuerall gifts confer: Who made her such, in euery moouing straine, To be the Bane of curious Minded Men.

When therefore first fit plow time doth disclose; Put on with spirit; All, as one, dispose Thy Servants and thy selfe: plow wet and drie; And when Aurora first affords her eye In Spring-time turn the earth vp; which see done Againe, past all faile, by the Summers Sunne. Hasten thy labours, that thy crowned fields May load themselues to thee, and [284]rack their yeelds. The Tilth-field sowe, on Earth’s most light foundations; The Tilth-field, banisher of execrations, Pleaser of Sonnes and Daughters: which t’ improve With all wisht profits, pray to earthly Ioue, And vertuous Ceres; that on all such suits Her sacred gift bestowes, in blessing fruits. When first thou enterst foot to plow thy land, And on thy plow-staffe’s top hast laid thy hand; Thy Oxens backs that next thee by a Chaine Thy Oken draught-Tree drawe, put to the paine Thy Goad imposes. And thy Boy behinde, That with his Iron Rake thou hast design’d, To hide thy seed, Let from his labour drive The Birds, that offer on thy sweat to liue. The best thing, that in humane Needs doth fall, Is Industry; and Sloath the worst of all. With one thy Corne ears shall with fruit abound; And bow their thankfull forheads to the ground; With th’ other, scarce thy seed again redound.

But if thou shouldst sow late, this well may be In all thy Slacknesse an excuse for thee: When, in the Oakes greene arms the Cuckoe sings, And first delights Men in the louely springs; If much raine fall, ’tis fit then to defer Thy sowing worke. But how much raine to beare, And [285]let no labour, to that Much give eare: Past intermission let Ioue steepe the grasse Three daies together, so he do not passe An Oxes hoofe in depth; and neuer [286]stay To strowe thy seed in: (but if deeper way Ioue with his raine makes; then forbeare the field;) For late sowne then will [287]past the formost yield. Minde well all this, nor let it fly thy powrs To knowe what fits the white spring’s early flowrs; Nor when raines timely fall: Nor when sharp colde, In winter’s wrath, doth men from worke withholde, Sit by Smiths forges, nor warme tauernes hant; Nor let the bitterest of the season dant Thy thrift-arm’d [288]paines, [289]like idle Pouertie; For then the time is when th’ industrious [290]Thie Vpholdes, with all increase, his Familie: With whose [291]rich hardness spirited, do thou [292]Poor Delicacie flie; lest frost and snowe [293]Fled for her loue, Hunger [294]sit both them out, And make thee, with the beggar’s lazie gout Sit stooping to the paine, still pointing too’t, And with a leane hand stroke a [295]foggie foot.

When aire’s chill North his noisome frosts shall blowe All ouer earth, and all the wide sea throwe At Heauen in hills, from colde horse-breeding Thrace; The beaten earth, and all her Syluane race Roring and bellowing with his bitter strokes; [296]Plumps of thick firre-trees and high crested-Okes Torne up in vallies; [297]all Aire’s floud let flie In him, at Earth; [298] sad nurse of all that die. Wilde beasts abhor him; and run clapping close Their sterns betwixt their thighs; and euen all those Whose hides their fleeces line with highest proofe; Euen Oxe-hides also want expulsive stuffe, And bristled goates, against his bitter gale: He blowes so colde, he beates quite through them all. Onely with silly sheep it fares not so; For they each summer [299]fleec’t, their [300]fells so growe, [301]They shield all winter crusht into his winde. He makes the olde Man trudge for life, to finde Shelter against him; but he cannot blast The tender and the delicately grac’t Flesh of the virgin; she is kept within, Close by her mother, careful of her skin: [302]Since yet she neuer knew how to enfolde The force of Venus [303]swimming all in golde. Whose Snowie bosome choicely washt and balm’d With wealthy oiles, she keepes the house becalm’d, All winter’s spight; when in his fire-lesse shed And miserable roofe still hiding head, The bonelesse fish doth eat his feet for colde: To whom the Sunne doth neuer food vnfolde; But turnes aboue the blacke Mens populous towrs, On whom he more bestowes his radiant howres That on th’ Hellenians: then all Beasts of horne, And smooth-brow’d, that in beds of wood are borne, About the Oken dales that North-winde flie, Gnashing their teeth with restlesse miserie; And euerywhere that [304]Care solicits all, That ([305]out of shelter) to their Couerts fall, And Cauerns eaten into Rocks; and then Those wilde Beasts shrink, like tame three-footed Men, Whose backs are broke with age, and forheads driu’n To stoope to Earth, though borne to looke on Heav’n. Euen like to these, Those tough-bred rude ones goe, Flying the white drifts of the Northerne Snowe.

But then betake thee to the shade that lies In shield of Rocks; drinke Biblian wine, and eate The creamy wafer: Gotes milke, that the Teate Giues newly free, and nurses Kids no more: Flesh of Bow-brousing Beeues, that neuer bore, And tender kids. And to these, taste black wine, The third part water, of the Crystaline Still flowing fount, that feeds a streame beneath; And sit in shades, where temperate gales may breath On thy oppos’d cheeks. When Orion’s raies His influence, in first ascent, assaies, Then to thy labouring Seruants giue command, [306]To dight the sacred gift of Ceres hand, In some place windie, on a [307]well-planed floore; Which, all by measure, into Vessels poure; Make then thy Man-swaine, one that hath no house; Thy handmaid one, that hath nor child nor spouse; Handmaids, that children have, are rauenous. A Mastiffe likewise, nourish still at home; Whose teeth are sharp, and close as any Combe; And meat him well, to keep with stronger guard The Day-sleep-wake-Night Man from forth thy yard: That else thy Goods into his Caues will beare: [308]Inne Hay and Chaffe enough for all the yeare, To serve thy Oxen and thy Mules; and then Loose them: and ease [309]the dear knees of thy Men.

If of a Chance-complaining Man at seas The humor take thee; when the Pleiades Hide head, and flie the fierce Orion’s chace, And the darke-deep Oceanus embrace; Then diuerse Gusts of violent winds arise; And then attempt no Nauall enterprize. But ply thy Land affaires, and draw ashore Thy Ship; and fence her round with stonage store To shield her Ribs against the [310]humorous Gales; Her Pump exhausted, lest Ioue’s rainie falls Breed putrefaction. All tooles fit for her, And all her tacklings, to thy House confer: Contracting orderly all needfull things That imp a water-treading Vessel’s wings; Her well-wrought Sterne hang in the smoke at home, Attending time, till fit Sea Seasons come.— When thy vaine Minde then would Sea-ventures try, [311]In loue the Land-Rocks of loath’d Debt to fly, And Hunger’s euer-harsh-to-hear-of cry: Ile set before thee all the Trim and Dresse Of those still-roaring-noise-resounding Seas: Though neither skild in either Ship or Saile Nor euer was at Sea; Or, lest I faile, But for Eubœa once; from Aulis where The Greeks, with Tempest driuen, for shore did stere Their mighty Nauie, gatherd to employ For sacred Greece gainst faire-dame-breeding Troy. To Chalcis there I made by Sea my passe; And to the Games of great Amphidamas; Where many a fore-studied Exercise Was instituted with excitefull prise For great-and-good, and able-minded Men; And where I wonne, at the Pierian Pen, A three-ear’d Tripod, which I offer’d on The Altars of the Maids of Helicon. Where first their loues initiated me In skill of their unworldly Harmony. But no more practise have my trauailes [312]swet, In many-a-naile-composed ships; and yet Ile sing what Ioue’s Minde will suggest in mine Whose daughters taught my verse the rage diuine.