XIII This Herod thus would Bethlem’s infants kill, The Christians soon this direful news receave, The trump of death sounds in their hearing shrill, Their weapon, faith; their fortress, was the grave; They had no courage, time, device, or will, To fight, to fly, excuse, or pardon crave, But stood prepared to die, yet help they find, Whence least they hope, such knots can Heaven unbind.
XIV Among them dwelt, her parents’ joy and pleasure, A maid, whose fruit was ripe, not over-yeared, Her beauty was her not esteemed treasure; The field of love with plough of virtue eared, Her labor goodness; godliness her leisure; Her house the heaven by this full moon aye cleared, For there, from lovers’ eyes withdrawn, alone With virgin beams this spotless Cynthia shone.
XV But what availed her resolution chaste, Whose soberest looks were whetstones to desire? Nor love consents that beauty’s field lie waste, Her visage set Olindo’s heart on fire, O subtle love, a thousand wiles thou hast, By humble suit, by service, or by hire, To win a maiden’s hold, a thing soon done, For nature framed all women to be won.
XVI Sophronia she, Olindo hight the youth, Both or one town, both in one faith were taught, She fair, he full of bashfulness and truth, Loved much, hoped little, and desired nought, He durst not speak by suit to purchase ruth, She saw not, marked not, wist not what he sought, Thus loved, thus served he long, but not regarded, Unseen, unmarked, unpitied, unrewarded.
XVII To her came message of the murderment, Wherein her guiltless friends should hopeless starve, She that was noble, wise, as fair and gent, Cast how she might their harmless lives preserve, Zeal was the spring whence flowed her hardiment, From maiden shame yet was she loth to swerve: Yet had her courage ta’en so sure a hold, That boldness, shamefaced; shame had made her bold.
XVIII And forth she went, a shop for merchandise Full of rich stuff, but none for sale exposed, A veil obscured the sunshine of her eyes, The rose within herself her sweetness closed, Each ornament about her seemly lies, By curious chance, or careless art, composed; For what the most neglects, most curious prove, So Beauty’s helped by Nature, Heaven, and Love.