Hero Feels the Shaft of Love

"Gentle youth, forbear
To touch the sacred garments which I wear.
Upon a rock, and underneath a hill,
Far from the town (where all is whist and still,
Save that the sea playing on yellow sand,
Sends forth a rattling murmur to the land,
Whose sound allures the golden Morpheus
In silence of the night to visit us)
My turret stands, and there God knows I play
With Venus' swans and sparrows all the day.
A dwarfish beldame bears me company,
That hops about the chamber where I lie,
And spends the night (that might be better spent)
In vain discourse, and apish merriment.
Come thither.' As she spake this, her tongue tripped,
For unawares "Come thither' from her slipped,
And suddenly her former colour changed,
And here and there her eyes through anger ranged.
And like a planet, moving several ways,
At one self instant, she poor soul assays,
Loving, not to love at all, and every part
Strove to resist the motions of her heart.
And hands so pure, so innocent, nay such,
As might have made heaven stoop to have a touch,
Did she uphold to Venus, and again
Vowed spotless chastity, but all in vain.
Cupid beats down her prayers with his wings,
His vows above the empty air he flings:
All deep enraged, his sinewy bow he bent,
And shot a shaft that burning from him went,
Wherewith she strooken looked so dolefully,
As made Love sigh, to see his tyranny.
And as she wept, her tears to pearl he turned,
And wound them on his arm, and for her mourned.