Of shapes transformde to bodies straunge, I purpose to entreate, Ye gods vouchsafe (for you are they ywrought this wondrous feate) To further this mine enterprise. And from the world begunne, Graunt that my verse may to my time, his course directly runne.

 Before the Sea and Lande were made, and Heaven that all doth hide, In all the worlde one onely face of nature did abide, Which Chaos hight, a huge rude heape, and nothing else but even A heavie lump and clottred clod of seedes togither driven, Of things at strife among themselves, for want of order due. No sunne as yet with lightsome beames the shapelesse world did vew. No Moone in growing did repayre hir hornes with borowed light. Nor yet the earth amiddes the ayre did hang by wondrous slight Just peysed by hir proper weight. Nor winding in and out Did Amphitrytee with hir armes embrace the earth about. For where was earth, was sea and ayre, so was the earth unstable. The ayre all darke, the sea likewise to beare a ship unable. No kinde of thing had proper shape, but ech confounded other. For in one selfesame bodie strove the hote and colde togither, The moist with drie, the soft with hard, the light with things of weight. This strife did God and Nature breake, and set in order streight. The earth from heaven, the sea from earth, he parted orderly, And from the thicke and foggie ayre, he tooke the lightsome skie. Which when he once unfolded had, and severed from the blinde And clodded heape, he setting eche from other did them binde In endlesse friendship to agree. The fire most pure and bright, The substance of the heaven it selfe, bicause it was so light Did mount aloft, and set it selfe in highest place of all. The second roume of right to ayre, for lightnesse did befall. The earth more grosse drew down with it eche weighty kinde of matter, And set it selfe in lowest place. Againe, the waving water Did lastly chalenge for his place, the utmost coast and bound, Of all the compasse of the earth, to close the stedfast ground. Now when he in this foresaid wise (what God so ere he was) Had broke and into members put this rude confused masse, Then first bicause in every part, the earth should equall bee, He made it like a mighty ball, in compasse as we see. And here and there he cast in seas, to whome he gave a lawe: To swell with every blast of winde, and every stormie flawe. And with their waves continually to beate upon the shore, Of all the earth within their boundes enclosde by them afore. Moreover, Springs and mighty Meeres and Lakes he did augment, And flowing streames of crooked brookes in winding bankes he pent. Of which the earth doth drinke up some, and some with restlesse race Do seeke the sea: where finding scope of larger roume and space, In steade of bankes, they beate on shores. He did commaund the plaine And champion groundes to stretch out wide: and valleys to remaine Aye underneath: and eke the woods to hide them decently With tender leaves: and stonie hilles to lift themselves on hie. And as two Zones doe cut the Heaven upon the righter side, And other twaine upon the left likewise the same devide, The middle in outragious heat exceeding all the rest: Even so likewise through great foresight to God it seemed best, The earth encluded in the same should so devided bee, As with the number of the Heaven, hir Zones might full agree. Of which the middle Zone in heate, the utmost twaine in colde Exceede so farre, that there to dwell no creature dare be bolde. Betweene these two so great extremes, two other Zones are fixt, Where temprature of heate and colde indifferently is mixt. Now over this doth hang the Ayre, which as it is more fleightie Than earth or water: so againe than fire it is more weightie. There hath he placed mist and cloudes, and for to feare mens mindes, The thunder and the lightning eke, with colde and blustring windes. But yet the maker of the worlde permitteth not alway The windes to use the ayre at will. For at this present day, Though ech from other placed be in sundry coasts aside, The violence of their boystrous blasts, things scarsly can abide. They so turmoyle as though they would the world in pieces rende, So cruell is those brothers wrath when that they doe contende. And therefore to the morning graye, the Realme of Nabathie, To Persis and to other lands and countries that doe lie Farre underneath the Morning starre, did Eurus take his flight. Likewise the setting of the Sunne, and shutting in of night Belong to Zephyr. And the blasts of blustring Boreas raigne, in Scythia and in other landes set under Charles his waine. And unto Auster doth belong the coast of all the South, Who beareth shoures and rotten mistes, continuall in his mouth. Above all these he set aloft the cleare and lightsome skie, Without all dregs of earthly filth or grossenesse utterlie. The boundes of things were scarsly yet by him thus pointed out, But that appeared in the heaven, starres glistring all about, Which in the said confused heape had hidden bene before, And to th'intent with lively things eche Region for to store, The heavenly soyle, to Gods and Starres and Planets first he gave. The waters next both fresh and salt he let the fishes have. The suttle ayre to flickring fowles and birdes he hath assignde. The earth to beasts both wilde and tame of sundrie sort and kinde. Howbeit yet of all this while, the creature wanting was, Farre more devine, of nobler minde, which should the residue passe In depth of knowledge, reason, wit, and high capacitie, And which of all the residue should the Lord and ruler bee. Then eyther he that made the worlde, and things in order set, Of heavenly seede engendred Man: or else the earth as yet Yong, lustie, fresh, and in hir floures, and parted from the skie, But late before, the seede thereof as yet held inwardlie. The which Prometheus tempring straight with water of the spring, Did make in likenesse to the Gods that governe everie thing. And where all other beasts behold the ground with groveling eie, He gave to Man a stately looke replete with majestie. And willde him to behold the Heaven wyth countnance cast on hie, To marke and understand what things were in the starrie skie. And thus the earth which late before had neyther shape nor hew, Did take the noble shape of man, and was transformed new.

 Then sprang up first the golden age, which of it selfe maintainde The truth and right of every thing unforct and unconstrainde. There was no feare of punishment, there was no threatning lawe In brazen tables nayled up, to keepe the folke in awe. There was no man would crouch or creepe to Judge with cap in hand, They lived safe without a Judge, in everie Realme and lande. The loftie Pynetree was not hewen from mountaines where it stood, In seeking straunge and forren landes, to rove upon the flood. Men knew none other countries yet, than where themselves did keepe: There was no towne enclosed yet, with walles and diches deepe. No horne nor trumpet was in use, no sword nor helmet worne, The worlde was such, that souldiers helpe might easly be forborne. The fertile earth as yet was free, untoucht of spade or plough, And yet it yeelded of it selfe of every things inough. And men themselves contented well with plaine and simple foode, That on the earth of natures gift without their travail stoode, Did live by Raspis, heppes and hawes, by cornelles, plummes and cherries, By sloes and apples, nuttes and peares, and lothsome bramble berries, And by the acornes dropt on ground, from Joves brode tree in fielde. The Springtime lasted all the yeare, and Zephyr with his milde And gentle blast did cherish things that grew of owne accorde, The ground untilde, all kinde of fruits did plenteously afforde. No mucke nor tillage was bestowde on leane and barren land, To make the corne of better head, and ranker for to stand. Then streames ran milke, then streames ran wine, and yellow honny flowde From ech greene tree whereon the rayes of firie Phebus glowde. But when that into Lymbo once Saturnus being thrust, The rule and charge of all the worlde was under Jove unjust, And that the silver age came in, more somewhat base than golde, More precious yet than freckled brasse, immediatly the olde And auncient Spring did Jove abridge, and made therof anon, Foure seasons: Winter, Sommer, Spring, and Autumne off and on: Then first of all began the ayre with fervent heate to swelt. Then Isycles hung roping downe: then for the colde was felt Men gan to shroud themselves in house. Their houses were the thickes, And bushie queaches, hollow caves, or hardels made of stickes. Then first of all were furrowes drawne, and corne was cast in ground. The simple Oxe with sorie sighes, to heavie yoke was bound. Next after this succeded streight, the third and brazen age: More hard of nature, somewhat bent to cruell warres and rage. But yet not wholy past all grace. Of yron is the last In no part good and tractable as former ages past. For when that of this wicked Age once opened was the veyne Therein all mischief rushed forth: then Fayth and Truth were faine And honest shame to hide their heades: for whom crept stoutly in, Craft, Treason, Violence, Envie, Pride and wicked Lust to win. The shipman hoyst his sailes to wind, whose names he did not knowe: And shippes that erst in toppes of hilles and mountaines had ygrowe, Did leape and daunce on uncouth waves: and men began to bound With dowles and diches drawen in length the free and fertile ground, Which was as common as the Ayre and light of Sunne before. Not onely corne and other fruites, for sustnance and for store, Were now exacted of the Earth: but eft they gan to digge, And in the bowels of the ground unsaciably to rigge, For Riches coucht and hidden deepe, in places nere to Hell, The spurres and stirrers unto vice, and foes to doing well. Then hurtfull yron came abrode, then came forth yellow golde, More hurtfull than the yron farre, then came forth battle bolde, That feightes with bothe, and shakes his sword in cruell bloudy hand. Men live by ravine and by stelth: the wandring guest doth stand In daunger of his host: the host in daunger of his guest: And fathers of their sonne in lawes: yea seldome time doth rest, Betweene borne brothers such accord and love as ought to bee. The goodman seekes the goodwifes death, and his againe seeks shee. The stepdames fell their husbandes sonnes with poyson do assayle. To see their fathers live so long the children doe bewayle. All godlynesse lies under foote. And Ladie Astrey, last Of heavenly vertues, from this earth in slaughter drowned past. And to th'intent the earth alone thus should not be opprest, And heaven above in slouthfull ease and carelesse quiet rest, Men say that Giantes went about the Realme of Heaven to win To place themselves to raigne as Gods and lawlesse Lordes therein. And hill on hill they heaped up aloft into the skie, Till God almighty from the Heaven did let his thunder flie, The dint whereof the ayrie tops of high Olympus brake, And pressed Pelion violently from under Ossa strake. When whelmed in their wicked worke those cursed Caitives lay, The Earth their mother tooke their bloud yet warme and (as they say) Did give it life. And for bicause some ympes should still remaine Of that same stocke, she gave it shape and limmes of men againe. This offspring eke against the Gods did beare a native spight, In slaughter and in doing wrong was all their whole delight. Their deedes declared them of bloud engendred for to bee. 

 The which as soone as Saturns sonne from Heaven aloft did see, He fetcht a sigh, and therwithall revolving in his thought The shamefull act which at a feast Lycaon late had wrought, As yet unknowne or blowne abrode: He gan thereat to storme And stomacke like an angry Jove. And therfore to reforme Such haynous actes, he sommonde streight his Court of Parliament, Whereto resorted all the Gods that had their sommons sent. Highe in the Welkin is a way apparant to the sight In starrie nights, which of his passing whitenesse Milkie hight: It is the streete that to the Court and Princely Pallace leades, Of mightie Jove whose thunderclaps eche living creature dreades. On both the sides of this same waye do stand in stately port The sumptuous houses of the Peeres. For all the common sort Dwell scattring here and there abrode: the face of all the skie The houses of the chiefe estates and Princes doe supplie. And sure and if I may be bolde to speake my fancie free I take this place of all the Heaven the Pallace for to bee. Now when the Goddes assembled were, and eche had tane his place, Jove standing up aloft and leaning on his yvorie Mace, Right dreadfully his bushie lockes did thrise or four times shake, Wherewith he made both Sea and Land and Heaven it self to quake, And afterward in wrathfull wordes his angrie minde thus brake: I never was in greater care nor more perplexitie, How to maintaine my soveraigne state and Princelie royaltie, When with their hundreth handes apiece the Adderfooted rout, Did practise for to conquere Heaven and for to cast us out. For though it were a cruell foe: yet did that warre depende Upon one ground, and in one stocke it had his finall ende. But now as farre as any sea about the worlde doth winde, I must destroy both man and beast and all the mortall kinde. I sweare by Styxes hideous streames that run within the ground, All other meanes must first be sought: but when there can be found No helpe to heale a festred sore, it must away be cut, Lest that the partes that yet are sound, in daunger should be put. We have a number in the worlde that mans estate surmount, Of such whom for their private Gods the countrie folkes account, As Satyres, Faunes, and sundry Nymphes, with Silvanes eke beside, That in the woods and hillie grounds continually abide. Whome into Heaven since that as yet we vouch not safe to take, And of the honour of this place copartners for to make, Such landes as to inhabite in, we erst to them assignde, That they should still enjoye the same, it is my will and minde. But can you thinke that they in rest and safetie shall remaine When proud Lycaon laye in waite by secret meanes and traine To have confounded me your Lorde, who in my hand doe beare The dreadfull thunder, and of whom even you doe stand in feare? The house was moved at his words and earnestly requirde, The man that had so traiterously against their Lord conspirde. Even so when Rebels did arise to stroy the Romane name, By shedding of our Cesars bloud, the horror of the same Did pierce the heartes of all mankinde, and made the world to quake. Whose fervent zeale in thy behalfe (O August) thou did take, As thankfully as Jove doth heare the loving care of his, Who beckning to them with his hand, forbiddeth them to hisse. And therewithall through all the house attentive silence is. As soone as that his majestie all muttring had alayde, He brake the silence once againe, and thus unto them sayde: Let passe this carefull thought of yours: for he that did offende, Hath dearely bought the wicked Act, the which he did entende. Yet shall you heare what was his fault and vengeance for the same. A foule report and infamie unto our hearing came Of mischiefe used in those times: which wishing all untrew I did descend in shape of man, th'infamed Earth to vew. It were a processe overlong to tell you of the sinne, That did abound in every place where as I entred in. The bruit was lesser than the truth, and partiall in report. The dreadfull dennes of Menalus where savage beastes resort And Cyllen had I overpast, with all the Pynetrees hie Of cold Lyceus, and from thence I entred by and by The herbroughlesse and cruell house of late th'Arcadian King, Such time as twilight on the Earth dim darknesse gan to bring. I gave a signe that God was come, and streight the common sort Devoutly prayde, whereat Lycaon first did make a sport And after said: By open proufe, ere long I minde to see, If that this wight a mighty God or mortall creature bee. The truth shall trie it selfe: he ment (the sequele did declare) To steale upon me in the night, and kyll me unbeware. And yet he was not so content: but went and cut the throte, Of one that laye in hostage there, which was an Epyrote: And part of him he did to rost, and part he did to stewe. Which when it came upon the borde, forthwith I overthrew The house with just revenging fire upon the owners hed, Who seeing that, slipt out of doores amazde for feare, and fled Into the wilde and desert woods, where being all alone, As he endevorde (but in vaine) to speake and make his mone, He fell a howling: wherewithall for verie rage and moode He ran me quite out of his wits and waxed furious woode. Still practising his wonted lust of slaughter on the poore And sielie cattle, thirsting still for bloud as heretofore, His garments turnde to shackie haire, his armes to rugged pawes: So is he made a ravening Wolfe: whose shape expressely drawes To that the which he was before: his skinne is horie graye, His looke still grim with glaring eyes, and every kinde of waye His cruell heart in outward shape doth well it selfe bewraye. Thus was one house destroyed quite, but that one house alone Deserveth not to be destroyde: in all the Earth is none, But that such vice doth raigne therein, as that ye would beleve, That all had sworne and solde themselves to mischiefe us to greve. And therefore as they all offende: so am I fully bent, That all forthwith (as they deserve) shall have due punishment. These wordes of Jove some of the Gods did openly approve, And with their sayings more to wrath his angry courage move. And some did give assent by signes. Yet did it grieve them all That such destruction utterly on all mankinde should fall, Demaunding what he purposed with all the Earth to doe, When that he had all mortall men so cleane destroyde, and whoe On holie Altars afterward should offer frankinsence, And whother that he were in minde to leave the Earth fro thence To savage beastes to wast and spoyle, bicause of mans offence. The king of Gods bade cease their thought and questions in that case, And cast the care thereof on him. Within a little space He promist for to frame a newe, an other kinde of men By wondrous meanes, unlike the first to fill the world agen.

 And now his lightning had he thought on all the earth to throw, But that he feared lest the flames perhaps so hie should grow As for to set the Heaven on fire, and burne up all the skie. He did remember furthermore how that by destinie A certaine time should one day come, wherein both Sea and Lond And Heaven it selfe shoulde feele the force of Vulcans scorching brond, So that the huge and goodly worke of all the worlde so wide Should go to wrecke, for doubt whereof forthwith he laide aside His weapons that the Cyclops made, intending to correct Mans trespasse by a punishment contrary in effect. And namely with incessant showres from heaven ypoured downe, He did determine with himselfe the mortall kinde to drowne. In Aeolus prison by and by he fettred Boreas fast, With al such winds as chase the cloudes or breake them with their blast, And set at large the Southerne winde: who straight with watry wings And dreadfull face as blacke as pitch, forth out of prison flings. His beard hung full of hideous stormes, all dankish was his head, With water streaming downe his haire that on his shoulders shead. His ugly forehead wrinkled was with foggie mistes full thicke, And on his fethers and his breast a stilling dew did sticke. As soone as he betweene his hands the hanging cloudes had crusht, With ratling noyse adowne from heaven the raine full sadly gusht. The Rainbow, Junos messenger, bedect in sundrie hue, To maintaine moysture in the cloudes, great waters thither drue: The corne was beaten to the grounde, the Tilmans hope of gaine, For which he toyled all the yeare, lay drowned in the raine. Joves indignation and his wrath began to grow so hot That for to quench the rage thereof, his Heaven suffised not. His brother Neptune with his waves was faine to doe him ease: Who straight assembling all the streames that fall into the seas, Said to them standing in his house: Sirs get you home apace, (You must not looke to have me use long preaching in this case.) Poure out your force (for so is neede) your heads ech one unpende, And from your open springs, your streames with flowing waters sende. He had no sooner said the word, but that returning backe, Eche one of them unlosde his spring, and let his waters slacke. And to the Sea with flowing streames yswolne above their bankes, One rolling in anothers necke, they rushed forth by rankes. Himselfe with his threetyned Mace, did lend the earth a blow, That made it shake and open wayes for waters forth to flow. The flouds at randon where they list, through all the fields did stray, Men, beastes, trees, come, and with their gods were Churches washt away. If any house were built so strong, against their force to stonde Yet did the water hide the top: and turrets in that ponde Were overwhelmde: no difference was betweene the sea and ground, For all was sea: there was no shore nor landing to be found. Some climbed up to tops of hils, and some rowde to and fro In Botes, where they not long before, to plough and Cart did go, One over come and tops of townes, whome waves did overwhelme, Doth saile in ship, an other sittes a fishing in an Elme. In meddowes greene were Anchors cast (so fortune did provide) And crooked ships did shadow vynes, the which the floud did hide. And where but tother day before did feede the hungry Gote, The ugly Seales and Porkepisces now to and fro did flote. The Sea nymphes wondred under waves the townes and groves to see, And Dolphines playd among the tops and boughes of every tree. The grim and greedy Wolfe did swim among the siely sheepe, The Lion and the Tyger fierce were borne upon the deepe. It booted not the foming Boare his crooked tuskes to whet, The running Hart coulde in the streame by swiftnesse nothing get. The fleeting fowles long having sought for land to rest upon, Into the Sea with werie wings were driven to fall anon. Th'outragious swelling of the Sea the lesser hillockes drownde, Unwonted waves on highest tops of mountaines did rebownde. The greatest part of men were drownde, and such as scapte the floode, Forlorne with fasting overlong did die for want of foode. Against the fieldes of Aonie and Atticke lies a lande That Phocis hight, a fertile ground while that it was a lande: But at that time a part of Sea, and even a champion fielde Of sodaine waters which the floud by forced rage did yeelde, Where as a hill with forked top the which Parnasus hight, Doth pierce the cloudes and to the starres doth raise his head upright. When at this hill (for yet the Sea had whelmed all beside) Deucalion and his bedfellow, without all other guide, Arrived in a little Barke immediatly they went, And to the Nymphes of Corycus with full devout intent Did honor due, and to the Gods to whome that famous hill Was sacred, and to Themis eke in whose most holie will Consisted then the Oracles. In all the world so rounde A better nor more righteous man could never yet be founde Than was Deucalion, nor againe a woman, mayde nor wife, That feared God so much as shee, nor led so good a life. When Jove behelde how all the worlde stoode lyke a plash of raine, And of so many thousand men and women did remaine But one of eche, howbeit those both just and both devout, He brake the Cloudes, and did commaund that Boreas with his stout And sturdie blasts should chase the floud, that Earth might see the skie And Heaven the Earth: the Seas also began immediatly Their raging furie for to cease. Their ruler laide awaye His dreadfull Mace, and with his wordes their woodnesse did alaye.