Hence sprang the loues of _Ioue_, the _Sonnes_ exile, The shame of _Mars_ and _Venus_ in a net; _Iunos_ forsaken bed; Saturns compile Of frantike discontentment, which beset All heauen with armes; _Diana_ hence had while To court her sleeping boy; whilst _Thetis_ let _Phoebus_ imbrace her in her _Neptunes_ stead, Who made complaints, breach of his bridall bed: Yet not content with these disparagments, Much greater mischiefes issues from their minds, _Grinuile_, thy mountaine honour it augments Within their breasts, a Meteor like the winds, Which thrall'd in earth, a reeling issue rents With violent motion; and their wills combinds To belch their hat's, vow'd murdrers of thy fame, Which to effect, thus they begin the same. Fast to _Iberia_ flies vntoward chaunce, _Iberia_, which we vulgar Christen _Spaine_, Vpon whose Sunne-burnt continent doth daunce Westerne _Ducallidon_, the greatest maine, Thither shee packs, _Error_ doth their aduance Her coale-blacke standerd in the hands of paine; And as escapt from rauishment or bale, With false teares, thus shee tunes a falser tale. Great Empire (said shee) blessed in thy birth, Beautious created for-head of this round, That with thy smiles first lent to heauen mirth, And bout thy temples all perfections woond, Lodgd in th' immagin'd corners of the earth; Thou whom our centers Monarchesse art crownd, Attend my suite, baptisd in mournefull teares, Who but ere while triumphed on the spheares. Nor for my selfe more then thine owne decay Which blindfold pleasure clouds as they arise, Be gracious, and retort the domefull daye Which thee and me to shame would sacrifice. Loe, on the great west-walling boisterous sea, Which doth imbrace thy gold-enclosing eyes, Of many sailes one man, of one poor Ile, That will my fame, and all thy faire defile. His numberlesse great infinits of fame, Haue shut against me heauens great christall dore, The clouds, which once my feets dust had to name, Hang ore my forhead, threatning euermore Death to my praise; life to my infant shame, Whilst I with sighes mediate a new restore. And in my selfe behold my pleasures past, Swimming amongst the ioyes I cannot tast. Th' ambrosian Nectar-filled banqueting, No more shall I communicate, or see, Triumphes in heauen, _Ioues_ masks, and reuelling, Are cleene exempt, both from my ioyes and me. The reason, for my loue to thee I bring, Trimming the locks with Iems of dietie, Making the gods a dread a fatall day, Worse then the Giants warre or Centaurs fray. Poore goddesse, rob'd of all eternall power, Whose broken Statues, and down razed Fan's, Neuer warm'd altars, euer forgotten hower Where any memorie of praise is tane, Witnes my fall from great _Olympus_ tower; Prostrate, implore blame for receiued bane, And dyre reuenge gainst heauens impietie, Which els in shame will make thee follow mee.