An Excellent Sonnet of the Two Unfortunate LOVERS HERO and LEANDER: GIVING An Account how Leander fell in Love with the famous Hero; but being disappoint- ed by her cruel Father, who confined her in a Tower, Leander resolving to swim over the Hellespont to fetch her away, a mighty Storm arose, and he was drowned near her Window; for Sorrow of which, she leaped into the Sea to him. To the Tune of, Gerherds Mistress.
|
Hero.
|
HOW fares
|
My fair Leander? O vouchsafe to speak,
|
least my Heart break,
|
I banishd from thy sweet Company;
|
Tis not
|
Thy Fathers Anger can abase my Love;
|
I still will prove
|
Thy faithful Friend until such Time I die:
|
Though Fate and
|
Fortune do conspire to interrupt our Love,
|
In spight of Fate
|
And Fortunes hate I still will constant prove:
|
And though
|
Our angry Friends in Malice now our Bodies part
|
No Friends nor Foes,
|
Nor Scats nor Blows, shall seperate our Hearts.
|
Leander.
|
What Voice
|
Is this that calls Leander from her Bower?
|
from yonder Tower,
|
The Eccho of this Voice doth sure proceed.
|
Hero.
|
Leander
|
Tis thy Hero fain would come to thee,
|
if it might be;
|
Thy Absence makes my tender Heart to bleed
|
But oh! this pleasant
|
River Hellispont, which is the Peoples wonder
|
Those Waves so high
|
Do injury, by parting us asunder:
|
And though theres Ferry
|
Men great store, yet none will stand my Friend,
|
To waft me ore to
|
That fair Shore where all my Grief shall end.
|
Leander.
|
Hero
|
Though I am thy constant Lover still,
|
and ever will
|
My angry Father is thy Enemy:
|
He still
|
Doth strive to keep us asunder; now and then,
|
poor Ferry-Men,
|
They dare not waft thee over lest they die:
|
Nor yet
|
Dare they convey me unto my dear Hero now,
|
My Fathers Rage
|
Will not asswage, nor will the same allow,
|
Be patient
|
Then dear Hero now, as I am true to thee,
|
Even so I trust
|
Thou art as just, and faithful unto me.
|
Hero.
|
Is there
|
No Way to stay an angry Fathers Wrath,
|
whose Fury hath
|
Bereavd his Child of Comfort and Content?
|
Leander.
|
O no,
|
Dear Hero, theres no Way that I do know,
|
to ease my Woe,
|
My Days of Joy and Comfort now are spent,
|
You may
|
As well go tame a Lion in the Wilderness,
|
As to persuade
|
My Fathers Aid to help me in Distress.
|
His Anger
|
And this River hath kept us asunder long,
|
He hath his Will,
|
His Humour still, and we have all the wrong.
|
Hero.
|
Tis not
|
Thy Fathers Anger, nor this River deep,
|
the which shall keep
|
Me from the Embracements of my dearest Friend
|
For through
|
This Silver Stream, my Way I mean to take,
|
even for thy sake,
|
For thy dear sake my dearest Life Ill spend,
|
Though Waves and
|
Winds should both conspire mine Enemies to be
|
My Loves so strong,
|
I fear no Wrong can happen unto me:
|
O meet me
|
In the Garden where this pleasant River glides
|
Lend me thy Hand,
|
Draw me to Land, whatever me betides.
|
Now must
|
I make my tender slender Arms my Oars,
|
help watery Powers.
|
Ye little Fishes teach me how to swim;
|
And all
|
Ye Sea-Nymphs guard me unto yonder Banks,
|
Ill give you Thanks,
|
Bear up my Body, strengthen every Limb!
|
I come
|
Leander now prepare thy lovely Arms for me,
|
I come dear Love,
|
Assist me Jove, I may so happy be.
|
But oh! a mighty
|
Tempest rose, and he was drownd that Tide,
|
In her fair Sight,
|
Her Hearts delight, and so with Grief she dyd.
|
But when
|
Her aged Father these Things understands,
|
He wrings his Hands,
|
And tears his Hoary Hair from off his Head.
|
Society
|
He shuns, and doth forsake his Meat,
|
his Griefs so great,
|
And oft doth make the lowly Ground his Bed:
|
O my Leander,
|
Would that I had dyd to save thy Life,
|
Or that I had
|
When I was sad, made thee brave Heros Wife.
|
It was
|
My Trespass, and I do confess I wrongd thee,
|
Posterity shall
|
Know hereby, the Fault lay all in me.
|
But since
|
The Waves have cast his Body on the Land,
|
upon the Sand,
|
His Corps shall buried be in solemn wise;
|
One Grave
|
Shall serve them both & one most stately Tomb
|
shell make him Room,
|
Although her Corps be Breathless where she lies.
|
Ye Fathers
|
Have a special care now, whatsoeer you do,
|
For those that parts
|
True loyal Hearts, themselves were never true:
|
Though Fate and Fortune
|
Cross poor Lovers, sometimes as we do know
|
Pray understand,
|
Have you no Hand, even in their overthrow.
|
|
|
|
|
|