Thrust forth his father from his empery, Is now the great monarcho of the earth, Whose awful nod, whose all-commanding breath, Shakes Europe's ground-work; and his title makes[406] As dread a noise as when a cannon shakes 70 The subtile air. Thus hell-bred villany Is still rewarded with high dignity, When Sisyphus, that did but once reveal That this incestuous villain had to deal In isle Phliunte with Ægina fair,[407] Is damn'd to hell, in endless black despair Ever to rear his tumbling stone upright Upon the steepy mountain's lofty height; His stone will never now get greenish moss, Since he hath thus incurred so great a loss 80 As Jove's high favour. But it needs must be Whilst Jove doth rule and sway the empery. And poor Astrea's fled into an isle, And lives a poor and banishèd exile, And there penn'd up, sighs in her sad lament, Wearing away in pining languishment. If that Silenus' ass do chance to bray, And so the satyrs' lewdness doth bewray, Let him for ever be a sacrifice; Prick, spur, beat, load, for ever tyrannise 90 Over the fool. But let some Cerberus Keep back the wife of sweet-tongued Orpheus, Gnato[408] applauds the hound. Let that same child Of night and sleep (which hath the world defiled With odious railing) bark 'gainst all the work Of all the gods, and find some error lurk In all the graces; let his laver[409] lip Speak in reproach of Nature's workmanship; Let him upbraid fair Venus, if he list, For her short heel; let him with rage insist 100 To snarl at Vulcan's man, because he was Not made with windows of transparent glass, That all might see the passions of his mind; Let his all-blasting tongue great errors find In Pallas' house, because if next should burn, It could not from the sudden peril turn; Let him upbraid great Jove with luxury, Condemn the heaven's queen of jealousy: Yet this same Stygian Momus must be praised, And to some godhead at the least be raised. 110 But if poor Orpheus sing melodiously, And strive with music's sweetest symphony To praise the gods, and unadvisedly Do but o'er-slip one drunken deity, Forthwith the bouzing Bacchus out doth send His furious Bacchides, to be revenged; And straight they tear the sweet musician, And leave him to the dogs' division. Hebrus, bear witness of their cruelty, For thou didst view poor Orpheus' tragedy. 120 Thus slight neglects are deepest villany, But blasting mouths deserve a deity. Since Gallus slept, when he was set to watch Lest Sol or Vulcan should Mavortius catch In using Venus; since the boy did nap, Whereby bright Phoebus did great Mars intrap, Poor Gallus now (whilom to Mars so dear) Is turnèd to a crowing chaunticlere; And ever since, 'fore that the sun doth shine