One way look'd ill, another graciously; Which while men view'd, they cheerful were and holy, But looking off, vicious and melancholy. The snaky paths to each observed law Did Policy in her broad bosom draw. One hand a mathematic crystal sways, Which, gathering in one line a thousand rays From her bright eyes, Confusion burns to death, And all estates of men distinguisheth: By it Morality and Comeliness Themselves in all their sightly figures dress. Her other hand a laurel rod applies, To beat back Barbarism and Avarice, That follow'd, eating earth and excrement And human limbs; and would make proud ascent To seats of gods, were Ceremony slain. The Hours and Graces bore her glorious train; And all the sweets of our society Were spher'd and treasur'd in her bounteous eye. Thus she appear'd, and sharply did reprove Leander's bluntness in his violent love; Told him how poor was substance without rites, Like bills unsign'd; desires without delights; Like meats unseason'd; like rank corn that grows On cottages, that none or reaps or sows; Not being with civil forms confirm'd and bounded, For human dignities and comforts founded; But loose and secret all their glories hide; Fear fills the chamber, Darkness decks the bride. She vanish'd, leaving pierc'd Leander's heart With sense of his unceremonious part, In which, with plain neglect of nuptial rites, He close and flatly fell to his delights: And instantly he vow'd to celebrate All rites pertaining to his married state. So up he gets, and to his father goes, To whose glad ears he doth his vows disclose. The nuptials are resolv'd with utmost power; And he at night would swim to Hero's tower, From whence he meant to Sestos' forked bay To bring her covertly, where ships must stay, Sent by his father, throughly rigg'd and mann'd, To waft her safely to Abydos' strand. There leave we him; and with fresh wing pursue Astonish'd Hero, whose most wished view I thus long have forborne, because I left her So out of countenance, and her spirits bereft her: To look of one abashed is impudence, When of slight faults he hath too deep a sense. Her blushing het her chamber: she look'd out, And all the air she purpled round about; And after it a foul black day befell, Which ever since a red morn doth foretell, And still renews our woes for Hero's woe; And foul it prov'd, because it figur'd so The next night's horror; which prepare to hear; I fail, if it profane your daintiest ear. Then, ho, most strangely-intellectual fire, That, proper to my soul, hast power t'inspire Her burning faculties, and with the wings Of thy unsphered flame visit'st the springs Of spirits immortal! Now (as swift as Time Doth follow Motion) find th' eternal clime Of his free soul, whose living subject stood Up to the chin in the Pierian flood, And drunk to me half this Musaean story, Inscribing it to deathless memory: Confer with it, and make my pledge as deep, That neither's draught be consecrate to sleep;