HELEN TO PARIS.+ Translated from Ovid's Epistolæ Heroidum; Ep. xvii. BY SIR THOMAS CHALONER, Knt. Now that myn eyes, thy pistle red, Thou shamest nought (a straunger here) All honest custom broke, Agaynst her wedlocke vowe Thyne hostes to provoke. Was that the cause thy weried ship, Long tost with wind and wether, Of purpose (as thou saydest) Her course dyrected hyther ? This version, with the metrical translations of Lord Surrey, &c. occur in a folio MS. purchased by the editor from the library of the Rev. W. Sayle, of Stowey, in 1800, and which, as Bishop Percy has inferred, upon examination, "was evidently part of the series of poetical MSS. collected by the Haringtons." A quarto volume of Latin poetry, by Sir T. Chaloner the elder, was printed in 1579, and included "De Rep. Anglorum instaurando," and "De illustrium quorundam encomiis, miscellanea cum epigrammatis," &c. but none of his English verses seem to have been made public; though Puttenham says, "for eclogue and pastoral poesie, Sir P. Sidney and Maister Challenner do deserve the highest Or herefore did our palaice gates Unfolded to the stand, A gest unknowen to us, Of unaquaynted land; To th' end that for our gentlenes We shold be wronged so; Whan thou didest entre wyth this mynd It may be for my wryting thus, As if I had no cause To playn for this at all. So not forgettyng shame, My wonted chastnes blame. Thoughe in my face no fayned chere Doth counterfeat the sad, With frownyng browes to seem As if no myrth I had; praise." Meres likewise numbers Master Challener among the best, in his time, for pastoral; and Aubrey hence affirms, that Sir Thomas More, the elder Wiat, Henry Earl of Surrey, Chaloner, &c. were, for their times, admirable. See Oxford Cabinet, p. 20. The present translation becomes interesting to the poetical antiquary, as it must have been made anterior to that of Turbervile, which was published in 1567, Sir T. Chaloner having died in 1565. Wood suggests that his son had written some matters pertaining to virtuosity, and others to pastoral, but whether extant he could not tell. Several prose translations, by the elder Chaloner, are registered in Herbert's edition of Ames. Yet hetherto for deed or thought My spouse-breache well be vouched. I muse the more what confydens Impelleth the hereto, Or what sign geves the hope I newly shold mysdoo. If Theseus dyd once afore By force of rape possesse me, Woldest thow, therefore, of right The second tyme distresse me? Myne wer the fault if willingly I had agreed therto; But tane ageynst my will, What could I therwyth doo? Yet gote he not for all his payn The frute of me he sought, (The fear I had except) At hym I ayled nought. A sory kissse or twayn, perhaps, So as he found he left me. Did Theseus repent hym than That in the peples mouthes My name agayn shold spreed?- Yet stand I halfe in doubt thereof, Not for I nede to fear, As yf I wyst not well What shap and face I bear: But seyng our credulytie Us ladyes doth undoo, Wyth othes be trusted to. Yet others synne and matrones chast Ben rare thou sayst to see, What lettes among those rare My name enrold to be? For where thou thynkst my mothers dede Myght serve me, as it were, A president whereby What I shold do to lear: Mystaking was her giltes excuse, In lykenes of a swan, His pleasure on her dyd. No errour in this case Can serve for shadow to it. Happy was she to synne so well, To honor for my shame ? All Pelops lyne, with Tyndarus Transfourmed to her cam. Now go, and boste thy Trojan stocke, Of famous rote to growe, With Priam take good heed, Laomedon thou show; Whom I esteme but thus, thou seest, That Jove at fifth degree Suche glory to thy blode, Is but the first from me. I graunt the sceptres of thy Troy Yet do I not suppose These here for lesse than they. Nombre of goodes and men, perchaunce, Thy land hath than Yet may I say, it is Not barbarous as thyn. myne, |