Women are most won, when men merit least: If Merit look not well, Love bids stand by; Love's special lesson is to please the eye. And Hymen soon recovering all he lost, Deceiving still these maids, but himself most, His love and he with many virgin dames, Noble by birth, noble by beauty's flames, Leaving the town with songs and hallow'd lights, To do great Ceres Eleusina rites Of zealous sacrifice, were made a prey To barbarous rovers, that in ambush lay, And with rude hands enforc'd their shining spoil, Far from the darken'd city, tir'd with toil: And when the yellow issue of the sky Came trooping forth, jealous of cruelty To their bright fellows of this under-heaven, Into a double night they saw them driven,-- A horrid cave, the thieves' black mansion; Where, weary of the journey they had gone, Their last night's watch, and drunk with their sweet gains, Dull Morpheus enter'd, laden with silken chains, Stronger than iron, and bound the swelling veins And tired senses of these lawless swains. But when the virgin lights thus dimly burn'd, O, what a hell was heaven in! how they mourn'd, And wrung their hands, and wound their gentle forms Into the shapes of sorrow! golden storms Fell from their eyes; as when the sun appears, And yet it rains, so show'd their eyes their tears: And, as when funeral dames watch a dead corse, Weeping about it, telling with remorse What pains he felt, how long in pain he lay, How little food he eat, what he would say, And then mix mournful tales of others' deaths, Smothering themselves in clouds of their own breaths; At length, one cheering other, call for wine; The golden bowl drinks tears out of their eyne, As they drink wine from it; and round it goes, Each helping other to relieve their woes; So cast these virgins' beauties mutual rays, One lights another, face the face displays; Lips by reflection kiss'd, and hands hands shook, Even by the whiteness each of other took. But Hymen now us'd friendly Morpheus' aid, Slew every thief, and rescu'd every maid: And now did his enamour'd passion take Heart from his hearty deed, whose worth did make His hope of bounteous Eucharis more strong; And now came Love with Proteus, who had long Juggled the little god with prayers and gifts, Ran through all shapes, and varied all his shifts, To win Love's stay with him, and make him love him; And when he saw no strength of sleight could move him To make him love or stay, he nimbly turn'd Into Love's self, he so extremely burn'd. And thus came Love, with Proteus and his power, T' encounter Eucharis: first, like the flower That Juno's milk did spring, the silver lily, He fell on Hymen's hand, who straight did spy The bounteous godhead, and with wondrous joy Offer'd it Eucharis. She, wondrous coy, Drew back her hand: the subtle flower did woo it, And, drawing it near, mix'd so you could not know it: As two clear tapers mix in one their light, So did the lily and the hand their white. She view'd it; and her view the form bestows