Hero and Leander

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Title: Hero and Leander
Author: Christopher Marlowe
Release Date: July 7, 2006 [eBook #18781]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HERO
AND LEANDER***
E-text prepared by Daniel Callahan from source material generously
provided by Classic Literature Library

(http://www.classic-literature.co.uk/)
HERO AND LEANDER
by
Christopher Marlowe
FIRST SESTIAD
On Hellespont, guilty of true-love's blood,
In view and opposite two
cities stood,
Sea-borderers, disjoined by Neptune's might;
The one

Abydos, the other Sestos hight.
At Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero the fair,

Whom young Apollo courted for her hair,
And offered as a dower
his burning throne,
Where she should sit for men to gaze upon.
The
outside of her garments were of lawn,
The lining purple silk, with gilt
stars drawn;
Her wide sleeves green, and bordered with a grove,

Where Venus in her naked glory strove
To please the careless and
disdainful eyes
Of proud Adonis, that before her lies.
Her kirtle
blue, whereon was many a stain,
Made with the blood of wretched
lovers slain.
Upon her head she ware a myrtle wreath,
From whence
her veil reached to the ground beneath.
Her veil was artificial flowers
and leaves
Whose workmanship both man and beast deceives.

Many would praise the sweet smell as she passed,
When 'twas the
odour which her breath forth cast;
And there for honey bees have
sought in vain,
And, beat from thence, have lighted there again.

About her neck hung chains of pebblestone,
Which, lightened by her
neck, like diamonds shone.
She ware no gloves; for neither sun nor
wind
Would burn or parch her hands, but to her mind,
Or warm or
cool them, for they took delight
To play upon those hands, they were
so white.
Buskins of shells, all silvered used she,
And branched
with blushing coral to the knee;
Where sparrows perched of hollow
pearl and gold,
Such as the world would wonder to behold.
Those
with sweet water oft her handmaid fills,
Which, as she went, would
chirrup through the bills.
Some say for her the fairest Cupid pined

And looking in her face was strooken blind.
But this is true: so like
was one the other,
As he imagined Hero was his mother.
And
oftentimes into her bosom flew,
About her naked neck his bare arms
threw,
And laid his childish head upon her breast,

And, with still
panting rocked, there took his rest.
So lovely fair was Hero, Venus'
nun,
As Nature wept, thinking she was undone,
Because she took
more from her than she left,
And of such wondrous beauty her bereft.

Therefore, in sign her treasure suffered wrack,
Since Hero's time
hath half the world been black.

Amorous Leander, beautiful and young,
(whose tragedy divine
Musaeus sung,)
Dwelt at Abydos; since him dwelt there none
For
whom succeeding times make greater moan.
His dangling tresses,
that were never shorn,
Had they been cut, and unto Colchos borne,

Would have allured the vent'rous youth of Greece
To hazard more
than for the golden fleece.
Fair Cynthia wished his arms might be her
sphere;
Grief makes her pale, because she moves not there.
His
body was as straight as Circe's wand;
Jove might have sipped out
nectar from his hand.
Even as delicious meat is to the taste,
So was
his neck in touching, and surpassed
The white of Pelop's shoulder. I
could tell ye
How smooth his breast was and how white his belly;

And whose immortal fingers did imprint
That heavenly path with
many a curious dint
That runs along his back, but my rude pen
Can
hardly blazon forth the loves of men,
Much less of powerful gods.
Let it suffice
That my slack Muse sings of Leander's eyes,
Those
orient cheeks and lips, exceeding his
That leaped into the water for a
kiss
Of his own shadow and, despising many,
Died ere he could
enjoy the love of any.
Had wild Hippolytus Leander seen

Enamoured of his beauty had he been.
His presence made the rudest
peasant melt
That in the vast uplandish country dwelt.
The
barbarous Thracian soldier, moved with nought,
Was moved with
him and for his favour sought.
Some swore he was a maid in man's
attire,
For in his looks were all that men desire,
A pleasant smiling
cheek, a speaking eye,
A brow for love to banquet royally;
And
such as knew he was a man, would say,
"Leander, thou art made for
amorous play.
Why art thou not in love, and loved of all?
Though
thou be fair, yet be not thine own thrall."
The men of wealthy Sestos every year,
(For his sake whom their
goddess held so dear,
Rose-cheeked Adonis) kept a solemn feast.

Thither resorted many a wandering guest
To meet their loves.
Such
as had none at all,
Came lovers home from this great festival.
For
every street like to a firmament
Glistered with breathing stars who,

where they went,
Frighted the melancholy earth which deemed

Eternal heaven to burn, for so it seemed,
As