Their fellows being slain or put to flight, 120 Poor soldiers stand with fear of death dead-strooken, So at her presence all surpris'd and tooken, Await the sentence of her scornful eyes; He whom she favours lives; the other dies: There might you see one sigh; another rage; And some, their violent passions to assuage, Compile sharp satires; but, alas, too late! For faithful love will never turn to hate; And many, seeing great princes were denied, Pin'd as they went, and thinking on her died. 130 On this feast-day--O cursËd day and hour!-- Went Hero thorough Sestos, from her tower To Venus' temple, where unhappily, As after chanc'd, they did each other spy. So fair a church as this had Venus none: The walls were of discolour'd[9] jasper-stone, Wherein was Proteus carved; and over-head A lively vine of green sea-agate spread, Where by one hand light-headed Bacchus hung, And with the other wine from grapes out-wrung. 140 Of crystal shining fair the pavement was; The town of Sestos call'd it Venus' glass: There might you see the gods, in sundry shapes, Committing heady riots, incests, rapes; For know, that underneath this radiant flour[10] Was Dan‰e's statue in a brazen tower: Jove slily stealing from his sister's bed, To dally with Idalian Ganymed, And for his love Europa bellowing loud, And tumbling with the Rainbow in a cloud; 150 Blood-quaffing Mars heaving the iron net Which limping Vulcan and his Cyclops set; Love kindling fire, to burn such towns as Troy; Silvanus weeping for the lovely boy That now is turned into a cypress-tree, Under whose shade the wood-gods love to be. And in the midst a silver altar stood: There Hero, sacrificing turtles' blood, Vailed[11] to the ground, veiling her eyelids close; And modestly they opened as she rose: 160 Thence flew Love's arrow with the golden head; And thus Leander was enamourËd. Stone-still he stood, and evermore he gaz'd, Till with the fire, that from his countenance blaz'd, Relenting Hero's gentle heart was strook: Such force and virtue hath an amorous look. It lies not in our power to love or hate, For will in us is over-rul'd by fate. When two are stript long ere the course begin, We wish that one should lose, the other win; 170 And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect: The reason no man knows, let it suffice, What we behold is censur'd by our eyes. Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?[12] He kneel'd; but unto her devoutly prayed: Chaste Hero to herself thus softly said, "Were I the saint he worships, I would hear him;"