Allegory of Music or Erato, 1505-1510
   Tempera on Panel, by Fillipino Lippi
 
 
                                                                                            Aerato, section of Roman, 240 A.D
                                                                                                   Luxemburgum Romanum:
                                                                                               The Roman mosaic of Vichten,
                                                                                                Grand Duchy of Luxembourg
  
                    The Muse Erato                                                                Glass engraving of Erato by
         Hendrik Goltzius, Fifteenth Century                                                            John Hutton
 
Erato
 YE gentle Spirits breathing from aboue,
 Where ye in Venus siluer bowre were bred,
 Thoughts halfe deuine, full of the fire of loue,
 With beawtie kindled and with pleasure fed,
 Which ye now in securitie possesse,
 Forgetfull of your former heauinesse:
 Now change the tenor of your ioyous layes,
 With which ye vse your loues to deifie,
 And blazon foorth an earthlie beauties praise,
 Aboue the compasse of the arched skie:
 Now change your praises into piteous cries,
 And Eulogies turne into Elegies:
 Such as ye wont whenas those bitter stounds
 Of raging loue first gan you to torment,
 And launch your hearts with lamentable wounds
 Of secret sorrow and sad languishment,
 Before your Loues did take you vnto grace;
 Those now renew as fitter for this place.
 For I that rule in measure moderate
 The tempest of that stormie passion,
 And vse to paint in rimes the troublous state
 Of Louers life in likest fashion,
 Am put from practise of my kindlie skill,
 Banisht by those that Loue with leawdnes fill.
 Loue wont to be schoolmaster of my skill,
 And the sweet deuicefull matter of my song;
 Sweete Loue deuoyd of villanie or ill,
 But pure and spotles, as at first he sprong
 Out of th'Almighties bosome, where he nests;
 From thence infused into mortall brests.
 Such high conceipt of that celstiall fire,
 The base-borne brood of blindnes cannot gesse,
 Ne euer dare their dunghill thoughts aspire
 Vnto so loftie pitch of perfectnesse,
 But rime at riot, and doo rage in loue;
 Yet little wot what doth thereto behoue.
 Faire Cytheree the Mother of delight,
 And Queene of beautie, now thou maist go pack;
 For lo thy Kingdome is defaced quight,
 Thy scepter rent, and power put to wrack;
 And thy gay Sonne, that winged God of Loue,
 May now goe prune his plumes like ruffed Doue.
 And ye three Twins to light by Venus brought,
 The sweete companions of the Muses late,
 From whom what euer thing is goodly thought
 Doth borrow grace, the fancie to aggrate;
 Go beg with vs, and be companions still
 As heretofore of good, so now of ill.
 For neither you nor we shall anie more
 Find entertainment, or in Court or Schoole:
 For that which was accounted heretofore
 The learneds meed, is now lent to the foole,
 He sings of loue, and maketh louing layes,
 And they him heare, and they him highly prayse.
 With that she powred foorth a brackish flood
 Of bitter teares, and made exceeding mone;
 And all her Sisters seeing her sad mood,
 With lowd laments her answered all at one.
 So ended she: and then the next in rew
 Began her grieuous plaint, as doth ensew.
 from "The Teares of the Muses"
 by Edmund Spenser, 1591

 
 
 
 
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