Search'd her soft bosom, and from thence she pluck'd His lovely picture: which when she had view'd, Her beauties were with all love's joys renew'd; The odours sweeten'd, and the fires burn'd clear, Leander's form left no ill object there: Such was his beauty, that the force of light, Whose knowledge teacheth wonders infinite, The strength of number and proportion, Nature had plac'd in it to make it known, Art was her daughter, and what human wits For study lost, entomb'd in drossy spirits. After this accident, (which for her glory Hero could not but make a history,) Th' inhabitants of Sestos and Abydos Did every year, with feasts propitious, To fair Leander's picture sacrifice: And they were persons of special price That were allow'd it, as an ornament T' enrich their houses, for the continent Of the strange virtues all approv'd it held; For even the very look of it repell'd All blastings, witchcrafts, and the strifes of nature In those diseases that no herbs could cure: The wolfy sting of avarice it would pull, And make the rankest miser bountiful; It kill'd the fear of thunder and of death; The discords that conceit engendereth 'Twixt man and wife, it for the time would cease; The flames of love it quench'd, and would increase; Held in a prince's hand, it would put out The dreadful'st comet; it would ease all doubt Of threatened mischiefs; it would bring asleep Such as were mad; it would enforce to weep Most barbarous eyes; and many more effects This picture wrought, and sprung Leandrian sects; Of which was Hero first; for he whose form, Held in her hand, clear'd such a fatal storm, From hell she thought his person would defend her, Which night and Hellespont would quickly send her. With this confirm'd, she vow'd to banish quite All thought of any check to her delight; And, in contempt of silly bashfulness, She would the faith of her desires profess, Where her religion should be policy, To follow love with zeal her piety; Her chamber her cathedral-church should be, And her Leander her chief diety; For in her love these did the gods forego; And though her knowledge did not teach her so, Yet did it teach her this, that what her heart Did greatest hold in her self-greatest part, That she did make her god; and 'twas less naught To leave gods in profession and in thought, Than in her love and life; for therein lies Most of her duties and their dignities; And, rail the brain-bald world at what it will, That's the grand atheism that reigns in it still. Yet singularity she would use no more, For she was singular too much before; But she would please the world with fair pretext; Love would not leave her conscience perplext: Great men that will have less do for them, still Must bear them out, though th' acts be ne'er so ill; Meanness must pander be to Excellence; Pleasure atones Falsehood and Conscience: Dissembling was the worst, thought Hero then, And that was best, now she must live with men. O virtuous love, that taught her to do best