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HERO AND LEANDER.
79

Their shining gorges: the white black-ey'd swans
Did sing as woful Epicedians,
As they would straightways die: when Pity's queen,
The goddess Ecte, that had ever been
Hid in a wat'ry cloud near Hero's cries,
Since the first instant of her broken eyes,
Gave bright Leucote voice, and made her speak,
To ease her anguish, whose swoln breast did break
With anger at her Goddess, that did touch
Hero so near for that she[1] us'd so much.
And thrusting her white neck at Venus, said—
"Why may not amorous Hero seem a maid
Though she be none, as well as you suppress
In modest cheeks your inward wantonness?
How often have we drawn you from above,
T' exchange with mortals rites for rites in love?
Why in your priest then call you that offence,
That shines in you, and is[2] your influence?"
With this the Furies stopp'd Leucote's lips,
Enjoin'd by Venus; who with rosy whips
Beat the kind bird. Fierce lightning from her eyes
Did set on fire fair Hero's sacrifice,
(Which was her torn robe, and inforced hair;)
And the bright flame became a maid most fair

  1. i.e. Venus.
  2. in, edit. 1637.