MESSENGER

If dead he be not, or that through the air No winds have carried him, him might I find: But see him now, when least I thought I should: Oh late for me, for thee too quickly found, Except the news were better that I bring. Not this, but less: But how herd you this news? She lives, and may do still, For in her choice it is to live or die. Because she will not live. Another's death: and if thou dost not move her, She is so bent, as others send in vain Their praying words. What, soft and fair, the Temples gates are shut, And know you not how it unlawful is For any one save sacerdotal foot, To touch the sacred ground, until such time The Sacrifice unto the Altars come, Adorned with the Sanctuary rites? She cannot, for she's kept. Thy mournful child now come before the Priest With looks of fear and grief, that tears brought forth, Not only from us by, but by my troth, Even from the pillars of the Temples self And hardest stones, that seemed to feel the same, Was in a trice accused, conuic't, condemned. Because the grounds of her defence were small: Beside, a certain Nymph, whom she did call In testimony of her innocence, Was absent now, and none could find her out: And fearful signs, and monstrous accidents Of horror in the Temple proved the doubt, As dolorous to us, as strange and rare, Not seen since we did feel heavenly ire That did revenge Amintas love betrayed, The first beginning of our misery. Diana sweated out blood, the Earth did shake, The sacred Cave did bellow out unwonted howling And dire deadly cries: Withal, it breathed out such a stinking missed, As Pluto's impare kingdom hath no worse. And now with sacred order goes the Priest To bring thy daughter to her bloody end, The while Mirtillo (wondrous thing to tell) Offered by his own death, to give her life, Crying, unbind those hands (unworthy striges) And in her steed that should be sacrificed Unto Diana, drove me to the Altars A Sacrifice to my fair Amarillis. Mirtillo vanquisheth? Oh rare debate, Where dead on living gets the victory. The Priest speaks to your Child, be quiet Nymph, We cannot change this doom, for he must die That offers death, our Law commands it so: And after bids, your Daughter should be kept, Least griefs extreme should bring her desperate death Thus stood the state When Montane sent me for thee. Here best of all, for in this place alas, Shall the good Shepherd sacrificed be. Because to open skies it mus be hallowed. From the Highpriest, who from Tireno had them, For true Amintas and untrue Lucrine, Were sacrificed so: But now 'tis time to go; See where the sacred Pempe softly descends: It well done of us by this other way, To go unto the Temple to thy daughter. O daughter of great Jove, sister of Phebus bright, Thou second Titan, to the blinder world that givest light Now hear a miracle: She that before so fearful was to die, Changed on the sudden by Mirtilloes words, Thus answers with a bold undaunted heart: Thinkest thou (my deer) then by thy death to gain Life to her death, that by thy life does live. Oh miracle unjust: on Ministers, on on, why do you stay? Lead me forthwith unto mine end: I'll no such pity I, Mirtill replies, Live cruel piteous love, My heart his spiteful pity does reprove: To me it longes to die. Nay then to me (She answers) that by Law condemned am: And here anew begins a wondrous strife, As though that life were death, and death were life. (Oh souls well born) Oh couple worthy of Eternal honour, never dying praise: Oh living, and oh dying glorious lovers. Had I so many tongues, so many voices, As Heaven hath eyes, or Ocean sea hath sands; All would be dumb and hoarse in setting out Their wondrous and incomprehended praise. Eternal Child of heaven, Oh glorious Dame, That mortal deeds enchroniclest to time, Write thou this History, and it enfold In solid Diamond with words of gold. Because there where The fault is done, the punishment must be.