PHILOSTRATUS

What horrible fury, what cruel rage, Oh Egypt so extremely thee torments? Hast thou the Gods so angered by thy fault? Hast thou against them some such crime conceived. That their engrained hand lift up in threats They should desire in thy heart blood to bath? And that their burning wrath which nought Can ̄ que ̄ changed Should pitiless on us still lighten down? We are not hewn out of the monstrous mass Of Giants those, which heavens wrack conspired: Ixion's raze, false prater of his loves: Nor yet of him who feigned lightnings found: Nor cruel Tantalus, nor bloody Atreus, Whose cursed banquet for Thyestes plague Made the beholding Sun for horror turn His back, and backward from his course return: And hastening his wing-footed horses raze Plunge him in sea for shame to hide his face: While sulleine night upon the wondering world For mid-daies light her starry mantle cast. But what we be, what ever wickedness By us is done, Alas! with what more plagues, More eager torments could the Gods declare To heaven and earth that us they hateful hold? With soldiers, strangers, horrible in arms Our land is hid, our people drowned in tears. But terror here and horror, nought is seen: And present death prising our life each hour. Hard at our ports and at our porches waits Our conquering foe: hearts fail us, Hope's are dead: Our Queen laments: and this great Emperor Sometime (would now they did) whom world's did fear Abandoned, betrayed, now minds no more But from his evils by hastened death to pass. Come! you poor people tirade with ceases plaints With tears and sighs make mournful sacrifice On Isis altars: not our selves to save, But soften Caesar and him piteous make To us, his pray: that so his lenity May change our death into captivity. Strange are the evils the fates on us have brought, Oh but alas! how far more strange the cause! Love, love (alas, who ever would have thought?) Hath lost this Realm inflamed with his fire. Love, playing love, which men say kindles not But in soft hearts, hath ashes made our towns. And his sweet shafts, with whose shot none are killed, Which ulcer not, with death's our lands have filled, Such was the bloody, murdering, hellish love Possessed thy heart fair false guest Priam's son, Firing a brand which after made to burn The Trojan towers by Grecians ruinate. By this love, Priam, Hector, Troilus, Memnon, Deiphaebus, Glancus, thousands more. Whom red Scamanders armour clogged streams Rolled into Seas, before their dates are dead. So plaguy he, so many tempests raiseth, So murdering he, so many Cities raiseth, When insolent, blind, lawless, orderles, With made delights our sense he entertains. All knowing Gods our wracks did us foretell By signs in earth, by signs in starry Spheres, Which should have moved us, had not destiny With too strong hand warped our misery. The Comets flaming through the scattered clouds With fiery beams, most Like vnbroaded hairs: The fearful dragon whistling at the banks: And holy Apis ceases bellowing (As never erst) and shedding endless tears: Blood raining down from ̄ heaven in unknown showers: Our Gods dark faces over cast with woe, And dead men's Ghosts appearing in the night. Yea even this night while all the City stood Oppressed with terror, horror, servile fear, Deep silence over all: the sounds were herd Of diverse songs, and diverse instruments, Within the void of air: and howling noise, Such as mad Bacchus priests in Bacchus feasts On Nisa make: and (seemed) the company, Our City lost, went to the enemy. So we forsaken both of Gods and men, So are we in the mercy of our foes: And we henceforth obedient must become To laws of them who have us overcome.