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diff --git a/1045-0.txt b/1045-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3c5d61c --- /dev/null +++ b/1045-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1438 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1045 *** + + VENUS AND ADONIS + + + by William Shakespeare + + + _Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo + Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua._ + + +TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE + +HENRY WRIOTHESLEY, EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, + +and Baron of Titchfield. + + +Right Honourable, I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my +unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will censure me +for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burthen: only, if +your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow +to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some +graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I +shall be sorry it had so noble a godfather, and never after ear so +barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it +to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart’s content; +which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world’s hopeful +expectation. + + +Your honour’s in all duty, + + +WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. + + + VENUS AND ADONIS + + +Even as the sun with purple-colour’d face +Had ta’en his last leave of the weeping morn, +Rose-cheek’d Adonis hied him to the chase; +Hunting he lov’d, but love he laugh’d to scorn; 4 + Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him, + And like a bold-fac’d suitor ’gins to woo him. + +“Thrice fairer than myself,” thus she began, +“The field’s chief flower, sweet above compare, 8 +Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man, +More white and red than doves or roses are: + Nature that made thee, with herself at strife, + Saith that the world hath ending with thy life. 12 + +“Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed, +And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow; +If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed +A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know: 16 + Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses, + And being set, I’ll smother thee with kisses. + +“And yet not cloy thy lips with loath’d satiety, +But rather famish them amid their plenty, 20 +Making them red, and pale, with fresh variety: +Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty: + A summer’s day will seem an hour but short, + Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.” 24 + +With this she seizeth on his sweating palm, +The precedent of pith and livelihood, +And trembling in her passion, calls it balm, +Earth’s sovereign salve to do a goddess good: 28 + Being so enrag’d, desire doth lend her force + Courageously to pluck him from his horse. + +Over one arm the lusty courser’s rein, +Under her other was the tender boy, 32 +Who blush’d and pouted in a dull disdain, +With leaden appetite, unapt to toy; + She red and hot as coals of glowing fire, + He red for shame, but frosty in desire. 36 + +The studded bridle on a ragged bough +Nimbly she fastens;—O! how quick is love!— +The steed is stalled up, and even now +To tie the rider she begins to prove: 40 + Backward she push’d him, as she would be thrust, + And govern’d him in strength, though not in lust. + +So soon was she along, as he was down, +Each leaning on their elbows and their hips: 44 +Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown, +And ’gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips, + And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken, + “If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.” 48 + +He burns with bashful shame, she with her tears +Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks; +Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs +To fan and blow them dry again she seeks. 52 + He saith she is immodest, blames her miss; + What follows more, she murders with a kiss. + +Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast, +Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone, 56 +Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste, +Till either gorge be stuff’d or prey be gone: + Even so she kiss’d his brow, his cheek, his chin, + And where she ends she doth anew begin. 60 + +Forc’d to content, but never to obey, +Panting he lies, and breatheth in her face. +She feedeth on the steam, as on a prey, +And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace, 64 + Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers + So they were dew’d with such distilling showers. + +Look how a bird lies tangled in a net, +So fasten’d in her arms Adonis lies; 68 +Pure shame and aw’d resistance made him fret, +Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes: + Rain added to a river that is rank + Perforce will force it overflow the bank. 72 + +Still she entreats, and prettily entreats, +For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale. +Still is he sullen, still he lours and frets, +’Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy pale; 76 + Being red she loves him best, and being white, + Her best is better’d with a more delight. + +Look how he can, she cannot choose but love; +And by her fair immortal hand she swears, 80 +From his soft bosom never to remove, +Till he take truce with her contending tears, + Which long have rain’d, making her cheeks all wet; + And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt. + +Upon this promise did he raise his chin, 85 +Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave, +Who, being look’d on, ducks as quickly in; +So offers he to give what she did crave, 88 + But when her lips were ready for his pay, + He winks, and turns his lips another way. + +Never did passenger in summer’s heat +More thirst for drink than she for this good turn. 92 +Her help she sees, but help she cannot get; +She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn: + “O! pity,” ’gan she cry, “flint-hearted boy, + ’Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy? 96 + +“I have been woo’d as I entreat thee now, +Even by the stern and direful god of war, +Whose sinewy neck in battle ne’er did bow, +Who conquers where he comes in every jar; 100 + Yet hath he been my captive and my slave, + And begg’d for that which thou unask’d shalt have. + +“Over my altars hath he hung his lance, +His batter’d shield, his uncontrolled crest, 104 +And for my sake hath learn’d to sport and dance, +To toy, to wanton, dally, smile, and jest; + Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red + Making my arms his field, his tent my bed. 108 + +“Thus he that overrul’d I oversway’d, +Leading him prisoner in a red rose chain: +Strong-temper’d steel his stronger strength obey’d, +Yet was he servile to my coy disdain. 112 + Oh be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, + For mast’ring her that foil’d the god of fight. + +“Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine, +Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red, 116 +The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine: +What see’st thou in the ground? hold up thy head, + Look in mine eyeballs, there thy beauty lies; + Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes? 120 + +“Art thou asham’d to kiss? then wink again, +And I will wink; so shall the day seem night. +Love keeps his revels where there are but twain; +Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight, 124 + These blue-vein’d violets whereon we lean + Never can blab, nor know not what we mean. + +“The tender spring upon thy tempting lip 127 +Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted, +Make use of time, let not advantage slip; +Beauty within itself should not be wasted, + Fair flowers that are not gather’d in their prime + Rot, and consume themselves in little time. 132 + +“Were I hard-favour’d, foul, or wrinkled old, +Ill-nurtur’d, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice, +O’erworn, despised, rheumatic, and cold, +Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lacking juice, 136 + Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee; + But having no defects, why dost abhor me? + +“Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow, 139 +Mine eyes are grey and bright, and quick in turning; +My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow, +My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning, + My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt, + Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt. 144 + +“Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, +Or like a fairy, trip upon the green, +Or like a nymph, with long dishevell’d hair, +Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen. 148 + Love is a spirit all compact of fire, + Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire. + +“Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie: 151 +These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me; +Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky, +From morn till night, even where I list to sport me. + Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be + That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee? 156 + +“Is thine own heart to thine own face affected? +Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left? +Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected, +Steal thine own freedom, and complain on theft. 160 + Narcissus so himself himself forsook, + And died to kiss his shadow in the brook. + +“Torches are made to light, jewels to wear, +Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use, 164 +Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear; +Things growing to themselves are growth’s abuse, + Seeds spring from seeds, and beauty breedeth beauty; + Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty. 168 + +“Upon the earth’s increase why shouldst thou feed, +Unless the earth with thy increase be fed? +By law of nature thou art bound to breed, +That thine may live when thou thyself art dead; 172 + And so in spite of death thou dost survive, + In that thy likeness still is left alive.” + +By this the love-sick queen began to sweat, +For where they lay the shadow had forsook them, 176 +And Titan, tired in the midday heat, +With burning eye did hotly overlook them, + Wishing Adonis had his team to guide, + So he were like him and by Venus’ side. 180 + +And now Adonis with a lazy spright, +And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye, +His louring brows o’erwhelming his fair sight, +Like misty vapours when they blot the sky, 184 + Souring his cheeks, cries, “Fie, no more of love: + The sun doth burn my face; I must remove.” + +“Ay me,” quoth Venus, “young, and so unkind! +What bare excuses mak’st thou to be gone! 188 +I’ll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind +Shall cool the heat of this descending sun: + I’ll make a shadow for thee of my hairs; + If they burn too, I’ll quench them with my tears. 192 + +“The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm, +And lo I lie between that sun and thee: +The heat I have from thence doth little harm, +Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me; 196 + And were I not immortal, life were done, + Between this heavenly and earthly sun. + +“Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel? +Nay more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth: 200 +Art thou a woman’s son and canst not feel +What ’tis to love, how want of love tormenteth? + O had thy mother borne so hard a mind, + She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind. 204 + +“What am I that thou shouldst contemn me this? +Or what great danger dwells upon my suit? +What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss? +Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be mute: 208 + Give me one kiss, I’ll give it thee again, + And one for int’rest, if thou wilt have twain. + +“Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone, +Well-painted idol, image dull and dead, 212 +Statue contenting but the eye alone, +Thing like a man, but of no woman bred: + Thou art no man, though of a man’s complexion, + For men will kiss even by their own direction.” 216 + +This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue, +And swelling passion doth provoke a pause; +Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong; +Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause. 220 + And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak, + And now her sobs do her intendments break. + +Sometimes she shakes her head, and then his hand, +Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground; 224 +Sometimes her arms infold him like a band: +She would, he will not in her arms be bound; + And when from thence he struggles to be gone, + She locks her lily fingers one in one. 228 + +“Fondling,” she saith, “since I have hemm’d thee here +Within the circuit of this ivory pale, +I’ll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; +Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: 232 + Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, + Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie. + +“Within this limit is relief enough, +Sweet bottom grass and high delightful plain, 236 +Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough, +To shelter thee from tempest and from rain: + Then be my deer, since I am such a park, 239 + No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand bark.” + +At this Adonis smiles as in disdain, +That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple; +Love made those hollows, if himself were slain, +He might be buried in a tomb so simple; 244 + Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie, + Why there love liv’d, and there he could not die. + +These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits, +Open’d their mouths to swallow Venus’ liking. 248 +Being mad before, how doth she now for wits? +Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking? + Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn, + To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn! 252 + +Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say? +Her words are done, her woes the more increasing; +The time is spent, her object will away, +And from her twining arms doth urge releasing: 256 + “Pity,” she cries; “some favour, some remorse!” + Away he springs, and hasteth to his horse. + +But lo from forth a copse that neighbours by, +A breeding jennet, lusty, young, and proud, 260 +Adonis’ tramping courser doth espy, +And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud: + The strong-neck’d steed, being tied unto a tree, + Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he. 264 + +Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds, +And now his woven girths he breaks asunder; +The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds, +Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven’s thunder; + The iron bit he crusheth ’tween his teeth, 269 + Controlling what he was controlled with. + +His ears up-prick’d; his braided hanging mane +Upon his compass’d crest now stand on end; 272 +His nostrils drink the air, and forth again, +As from a furnace, vapours doth he send: + His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire, + Shows his hot courage and his high desire. 276 + +Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps, +With gentle majesty and modest pride; +Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps, +As who should say, “Lo thus my strength is tried; + And this I do to captivate the eye 281 + Of the fair breeder that is standing by.” + +What recketh he his rider’s angry stir, +His flattering “Holla”, or his “Stand, I say”? 284 +What cares he now for curb or pricking spur? +For rich caparisons or trappings gay? + He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, + For nothing else with his proud sight agrees. 288 + +Look when a painter would surpass the life, +In limning out a well-proportion’d steed, +His art with nature’s workmanship at strife, +As if the dead the living should exceed: 292 + So did this horse excel a common one, + In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone. + +Round-hoof’d, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, +Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, +High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, +Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: + Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, + Save a proud rider on so proud a back. 300 + +Sometimes he scuds far off, and there he stares; +Anon he starts at stirring of a feather: +To bid the wind a base he now prepares, +And where he run or fly they know not whether; 304 + For through his mane and tail the high wind sings, + Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather’d wings. + +He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her; +She answers him as if she knew his mind, 308 +Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her, +She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind, + Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels, + Beating his kind embracements with her heels. 312 + +Then like a melancholy malcontent, +He vails his tail that like a falling plume, +Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent: +He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume. 316 + His love, perceiving how he was enrag’d, + Grew kinder, and his fury was assuag’d. + +His testy master goeth about to take him, +When lo the unback’d breeder, full of fear, 320 +Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him, +With her the horse, and left Adonis there: + As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them, + Outstripping crows that strive to overfly them. 324 + +All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits, +Banning his boisterous and unruly beast; +And now the happy season once more fits +That love-sick love by pleading may be blest; 328 + For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong, + When it is barr’d the aidance of the tongue. + +An oven that is stopp’d, or river stay’d, +Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage: 332 +So of concealed sorrow may be said, +Free vent of words love’s fire doth assuage; + But when the heart’s attorney once is mute, + The client breaks, as desperate in his suit. 336 + +He sees her coming, and begins to glow, +Even as a dying coal revives with wind, +And with his bonnet hides his angry brow, +Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind, 340 + Taking no notice that she is so nigh, + For all askance he holds her in his eye. + +O what a sight it was, wistly to view +How she came stealing to the wayward boy, 344 +To note the fighting conflict of her hue, +How white and red each other did destroy: + But now her cheek was pale, and by and by + It flash’d forth fire, as lightning from the sky. 348 + +Now was she just before him as he sat, +And like a lowly lover down she kneels; +With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat, +Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels: 352 + His tend’rer cheek receives her soft hand’s print, + As apt as new-fall’n snow takes any dint. + +Oh what a war of looks was then between them, +Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing, 356 +His eyes saw her eyes, as they had not seen them, +Her eyes woo’d still, his eyes disdain’d the wooing: + And all this dumb play had his acts made plain + With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain. + +Full gently now she takes him by the hand, 361 +A lily prison’d in a gaol of snow, +Or ivory in an alabaster band, +So white a friend engirts so white a foe: 364 + This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling, + Show’d like two silver doves that sit a-billing. + +Once more the engine of her thoughts began: +“O fairest mover on this mortal round, 368 +Would thou wert as I am, and I a man, +My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound, + For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee, + Though nothing but my body’s bane would cure thee.” + +“Give me my hand,” saith he, “why dost thou feel it?” +“Give me my heart,” saith she, “and thou shalt have it. +O give it me lest thy hard heart do steel it, +And being steel’d, soft sighs can never grave it. 376 + Then love’s deep groans I never shall regard, + Because Adonis’ heart hath made mine hard.” + +“For shame,” he cries, “let go, and let me go, +My day’s delight is past, my horse is gone, 380 +And ’tis your fault I am bereft him so, +I pray you hence, and leave me here alone, + For all my mind, my thought, my busy care, + Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.” 384 + +Thus she replies: “Thy palfrey as he should, +Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire, +Affection is a coal that must be cool’d; +Else, suffer’d, it will set the heart on fire, 388 + The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none; + Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone. + +“How like a jade he stood tied to the tree, +Servilely master’d with a leathern rein! 392 +But when he saw his love, his youth’s fair fee, +He held such petty bondage in disdain; + Throwing the base thong from his bending crest, + Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast. 396 + +“Who sees his true-love in her naked bed, +Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white, +But when his glutton eye so full hath fed, +His other agents aim at like delight? 400 + Who is so faint that dare not be so bold + To touch the fire, the weather being cold? + +“Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy, +And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee, 404 +To take advantage on presented joy, +Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee. + O learn to love, the lesson is but plain, + And once made perfect, never lost again.” 408 + +“I know not love,” quoth he, “nor will not know it, +Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it; +’Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it; +My love to love is love but to disgrace it; 412 + For I have heard, it is a life in death, + That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath. + +“Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish’d? +Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth? 416 +If springing things be any jot diminish’d, +They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth; + The colt that’s back’d and burden’d being young, + Loseth his pride, and never waxeth strong. 420 + +“You hurt my hand with wringing. Let us part, +And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat: +Remove your siege from my unyielding heart, +To love’s alarms it will not ope the gate: 424 + Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flatt’ry; + For where a heart is hard they make no batt’ry.” + +“What! canst thou talk?” quoth she, “hast thou a tongue? +O would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing; 428 +Thy mermaid’s voice hath done me double wrong; +I had my load before, now press’d with bearing: + Melodious discord, heavenly tune, harsh-sounding, + Ear’s deep sweet music, and heart’s deep sore wounding. + +“Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love 433 +That inward beauty and invisible; +Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move +Each part in me that were but sensible: 436 + Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see, + Yet should I be in love by touching thee. + +“Say that the sense of feeling were bereft me, +And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, 440 +And nothing but the very smell were left me, +Yet would my love to thee be still as much; + For from the stillitory of thy face excelling + Comes breath perfum’d, that breedeth love by smelling. + +“But oh what banquet wert thou to the taste, 445 +Being nurse and feeder of the other four; +Would they not wish the feast might ever last, +And bid suspicion double-lock the door, + Lest jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest, + Should by his stealing in disturb the feast?” 448 + +Once more the ruby-colour’d portal open’d, +Which to his speech did honey passage yield, 452 +Like a red morn that ever yet betoken’d +Wrack to the seaman, tempest to the field, + Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds, + Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds. 456 + +This ill presage advisedly she marketh: +Even as the wind is hush’d before it raineth, +Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh, +Or as the berry breaks before it staineth, 460 + Or like the deadly bullet of a gun, + His meaning struck her ere his words begun. + +And at his look she flatly falleth down +For looks kill love, and love by looks reviveth; 464 +A smile recures the wounding of a frown; +But blessed bankrout, that by love so thriveth! + The silly boy, believing she is dead, + Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red. 468 + +And all amaz’d brake off his late intent, +For sharply he did think to reprehend her, +Which cunning love did wittily prevent: +Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her! 472 + For on the grass she lies as she were slain, + Till his breath breatheth life in her again. + +He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks, +He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard, 476 +He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks +To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr’d: + He kisses her; and she, by her good will, + Will never rise, so he will kiss her still. 480 + +The night of sorrow now is turn’d to day: +Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth, +Like the fair sun when in his fresh array +He cheers the morn, and all the world relieveth: 484 + And as the bright sun glorifies the sky, + So is her face illumin’d with her eye. + +Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix’d, +As if from thence they borrow’d all their shine. 488 +Were never four such lamps together mix’d, +Had not his clouded with his brow’s repine; + But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light + Shone like the moon in water seen by night. 492 + +“O where am I?” quoth she, “in earth or heaven? +Or in the ocean drench’d, or in the fire? +What hour is this? or morn or weary even? +Do I delight to die, or life desire? 496 + But now I liv’d, and life was death’s annoy; + But now I died, and death was lively joy. + +“O thou didst kill me; kill me once again: +Thy eyes’ shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine, 500 +Hath taught them scornful tricks, and such disdain, +That they have murder’d this poor heart of mine; + And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen, + But for thy piteous lips no more had seen. 504 + +“Long may they kiss each other for this cure! +Oh never let their crimson liveries wear, +And as they last, their verdure still endure, +To drive infection from the dangerous year: 508 + That the star-gazers, having writ on death, + May say, the plague is banish’d by thy breath. + +“Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, +What bargains may I make, still to be sealing? 512 +To sell myself I can be well contented, +So thou wilt buy, and pay, and use good dealing; + Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips, + Set thy seal manual on my wax-red lips. 516 + +“A thousand kisses buys my heart from me; +And pay them at thy leisure, one by one, +What is ten hundred touches unto thee? +Are they not quickly told and quickly gone? 520 + Say, for non-payment that the debt should double, + Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?” + +“Fair queen,” quoth he, “if any love you owe me, +Measure my strangeness with my unripe years: 524 +Before I know myself, seek not to know me; +No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears: + The mellow plum doth fall, the green sticks fast, + Or being early pluck’d, is sour to taste. 528 + +“Look the world’s comforter, with weary gait +His day’s hot task hath ended in the west; +The owl, night’s herald, shrieks, ’tis very late; +The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest, 532 + And coal-black clouds that shadow heaven’s light + Do summon us to part, and bid good night. + +“Now let me say good night, and so say you; +If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.” 536 +“Good night,” quoth she; and ere he says adieu, +The honey fee of parting tender’d is: + Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace; + Incorporate then they seem, face grows to face. 540 + +Till breathless he disjoin’d, and backward drew +The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth, +Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew, +Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drouth, 544 + He with her plenty press’d, she faint with dearth, + Their lips together glued, fall to the earth. + +Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey, +And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth; 548 +Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey, +Paying what ransom the insulter willeth; + Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high, + That she will draw his lips’ rich treasure dry. 552 + +And having felt the sweetness of the spoil, +With blindfold fury she begins to forage; +Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil, +And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage, 556 + Planting oblivion, beating reason back, + Forgetting shame’s pure blush and honour’s wrack. + +Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard embracing, +Like a wild bird being tam’d with too much handling, +Or as the fleet-foot roe that’s tir’d with chasing, 561 +Or like the froward infant still’d with dandling: + He now obeys, and now no more resisteth, + While she takes all she can, not all she listeth. 564 + +What wax so frozen but dissolves with temp’ring, +And yields at last to every light impression? +Things out of hope are compass’d oft with vent’ring, +Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission: 568 + Affection faints not like a pale-fac’d coward, + But then woos best when most his choice is froward. + +When he did frown, O had she then gave over, +Such nectar from his lips she had not suck’d. 572 +Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover; +What though the rose have prickles, yet ’tis pluck’d. + Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, + Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last. + +For pity now she can no more detain him; 577 +The poor fool prays her that he may depart: +She is resolv’d no longer to restrain him, +Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart, 580 + The which by Cupid’s bow she doth protest, + He carries thence encaged in his breast. + +“Sweet boy,” she says, “this night I’ll waste in sorrow, +For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch. 584 +Tell me, love’s master, shall we meet tomorrow +Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the match?” + He tells her no, tomorrow he intends + To hunt the boar with certain of his friends. 588 + +“The boar!” quoth she; whereat a sudden pale, +Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose, +Usurps her cheek, she trembles at his tale, +And on his neck her yoking arms she throws. 592 + She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck, + He on her belly falls, she on her back. + +Now is she in the very lists of love, +Her champion mounted for the hot encounter: 596 +All is imaginary she doth prove, +He will not manage her, although he mount her; + That worse than Tantalus’ is her annoy, + To clip Elysium and to lack her joy. 600 + +Even as poor birds, deceiv’d with painted grapes, +Do surfeit by the eye and pine the maw: +Even so she languisheth in her mishaps, +As those poor birds that helpless berries saw. 604 + The warm effects which she in him finds missing, + She seeks to kindle with continual kissing. + +But all in vain, good queen, it will not be, +She hath assay’d as much as may be prov’d; 608 +Her pleading hath deserv’d a greater fee; +She’s love, she loves, and yet she is not lov’d. + “Fie, fie,” he says, “you crush me; let me go; + You have no reason to withhold me so.” 612 + +“Thou hadst been gone,” quoth she, “sweet boy, ere this, +But that thou told’st me thou wouldst hunt the boar. +Oh be advis’d; thou know’st not what it is, +With javelin’s point a churlish swine to gore, 616 + Whose tushes never sheath’d he whetteth still, + Like to a mortal butcher, bent to kill. + +“On his bow-back he hath a battle set +Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes; 620 +His eyes like glow-worms shine when he doth fret; +His snout digs sepulchres where’er he goes; + Being mov’d, he strikes whate’er is in his way, + And whom he strikes his crooked tushes slay. 624 + +“His brawny sides, with hairy bristles armed, +Are better proof than thy spear’s point can enter; +His short thick neck cannot be easily harmed; +Being ireful, on the lion he will venture: 628 + The thorny brambles and embracing bushes, + As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes. + +“Alas! he naught esteems that face of thine, +To which love’s eyes pay tributary gazes; 632 +Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips, and crystal eyne, +Whose full perfection all the world amazes; + But having thee at vantage, wondrous dread! + Would root these beauties as he roots the mead. + +“Oh let him keep his loathsome cabin still, 637 +Beauty hath naught to do with such foul fiends: +Come not within his danger by thy will; +They that thrive well, take counsel of their friends. + When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble, + I fear’d thy fortune, and my joints did tremble. + +“Didst thou not mark my face, was it not white? +Saw’st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye? 644 +Grew I not faint, and fell I not downright? +Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie, + My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest, + But like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast. + +“For where love reigns, disturbing jealousy 649 +Doth call himself affection’s sentinel; +Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny, +And in a peaceful hour doth cry “Kill, kill!” 652 + Distemp’ring gentle love in his desire, + As air and water do abate the fire. + +“This sour informer, this bate-breeding spy, +This canker that eats up love’s tender spring, 656 +This carry-tale, dissentious jealousy, +That sometime true news, sometime false doth bring, + Knocks at my heart, and whispers in mine ear, + That if I love thee, I thy death should fear. 660 + +“And more than so, presenteth to mine eye +The picture of an angry chafing boar, +Under whose sharp fangs on his back doth lie +An image like thyself, all stain’d with gore; 664 + Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed, + Doth make them droop with grief and hang the head. + +“What should I do, seeing thee so indeed, +That tremble at th’imagination? 668 +The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed, +And fear doth teach it divination: + I prophesy thy death, my living sorrow, + If thou encounter with the boar tomorrow. 672 + +“But if thou needs wilt hunt, be rul’d by me; +Uncouple at the timorous flying hare, +Or at the fox which lives by subtilty, +Or at the roe which no encounter dare: 676 + Pursue these fearful creatures o’er the downs, + And on thy well-breath’d horse keep with thy hounds. + +“And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare, +Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles 680 +How he outruns the wind, and with what care +He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles: + The many musits through the which he goes + Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes. 684 + +“Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep, +To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell, +And sometime where earth-delving conies keep, +To stop the loud pursuers in their yell, 688 + And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer; + Danger deviseth shifts, wit waits on fear. + +“For there his smell with others being mingled, 691 +The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt, +Ceasing their clamorous cry, till they have singled +With much ado the cold fault cleanly out; + Then do they spend their mouths: echo replies, + As if another chase were in the skies. 696 + +“By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill, +Stands on his hinder legs with list’ning ear, +To hearken if his foes pursue him still. +Anon their loud alarums he doth hear; 700 + And now his grief may be compared well + To one sore sick that hears the passing bell. + +“Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch +Turn, and return, indenting with the way, 704 +Each envious briar his weary legs do scratch, +Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay: + For misery is trodden on by many, + And being low never reliev’d by any. 708 + +“Lie quietly, and hear a little more; +Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise: +To make thee hate the hunting of the boar, +Unlike myself thou hear’st me moralize, 712 + Applying this to that, and so to so, + For love can comment upon every woe. + +“Where did I leave?” “No matter where,” quoth he +“Leave me, and then the story aptly ends: 716 +The night is spent.” “Why, what of that?” quoth she. +“I am,” quoth he, “expected of my friends; + And now ’tis dark, and going I shall fall.” + “In night,” quoth she, “desire sees best of all. 720 + +But if thou fall, oh then imagine this, +The earth, in love with thee, thy footing trips, +And all is but to rob thee of a kiss. 723 +Rich preys make true men thieves; so do thy lips + Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn, + Lest she should steal a kiss and die forsworn." + +“Now of this dark night I perceive the reason: +Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine 728 +Till forging nature be condemn’d of treason, +For stealing moulds from heaven, that were divine; + Wherein she fram’d thee, in high heaven’s despite, + To shame the sun by day and her by night. 732 + +“And therefore hath she brib’d the destinies, +To cross the curious workmanship of nature, +To mingle beauty with infirmities, +And pure perfection with impure defeature, 736 + Making it subject to the tyranny + Of mad mischances and much misery. + +“As burning fevers, agues pale and faint, +Life-poisoning pestilence and frenzies wood, 740 +The marrow-eating sickness, whose attaint +Disorder breeds by heating of the blood; + Surfeits, imposthumes, grief, and damn’d despair, + Swear nature’s death, for framing thee so fair. 744 + +“And not the least of all these maladies +But in one minute’s fight brings beauty under: +Both favour, savour, hue and qualities, +Whereat th’impartial gazer late did wonder, 748 + Are on the sudden wasted, thaw’d and done, + As mountain snow melts with the midday sun. + +“Therefore despite of fruitless chastity, +Love-lacking vestals and self-loving nuns, 752 +That on the earth would breed a scarcity +And barren dearth of daughters and of sons, + Be prodigal: the lamp that burns by night + Dries up his oil to lend the world his light. 756 + +“What is thy body but a swallowing grave, +Seeming to bury that posterity, +Which by the rights of time thou needs must have, +If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity? 760 + If so, the world will hold thee in disdain, + Sith in thy pride so fair a hope is slain. + +“So in thyself thyself art made away; +A mischief worse than civil home-bred strife, 764 +Or theirs whose desperate hands themselves do slay, +Or butcher sire that reeves his son of life. + Foul cank’ring rust the hidden treasure frets, + But gold that’s put to use more gold begets.” 768 + +“Nay then,” quoth Adon, “you will fall again +Into your idle over-handled theme; +The kiss I gave you is bestow’d in vain, +And all in vain you strive against the stream; 772 + For by this black-fac’d night, desire’s foul nurse, + Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse. + +“If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues, +And every tongue more moving than your own, 776 +Bewitching like the wanton mermaid’s songs, +Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown; + For know, my heart stands armed in mine ear, + And will not let a false sound enter there. 780 + +“Lest the deceiving harmony should run +Into the quiet closure of my breast, +And then my little heart were quite undone, +In his bedchamber to be barr’d of rest. 784 + No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan, + But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone. + +“What have you urg’d that I cannot reprove? +The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger; 790 +I hate not love, but your device in love +That lends embracements unto every stranger. + You do it for increase: O strange excuse! + When reason is the bawd to lust’s abuse. 792 + +“Call it not love, for love to heaven is fled, +Since sweating lust on earth usurp’d his name; +Under whose simple semblance he hath fed +Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame; 796 + Which the hot tyrant stains and soon bereaves, + As caterpillars do the tender leaves. + +“Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, +But lust’s effect is tempest after sun; 800 +Love’s gentle spring doth always fresh remain, +Lust’s winter comes ere summer half be done. + Love surfeits not, lust like a glutton dies; + Love is all truth, lust full of forged lies. 804 + +“More I could tell, but more I dare not say; +The text is old, the orator too green. +Therefore, in sadness, now I will away; +My face is full of shame, my heart of teen, 808 + Mine ears, that to your wanton talk attended + Do burn themselves for having so offended.” + +With this he breaketh from the sweet embrace 811 +Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast, +And homeward through the dark laund runs apace; +Leaves love upon her back deeply distress’d. + Look how a bright star shooteth from the sky, + So glides he in the night from Venus’ eye. 816 + +Which after him she darts, as one on shore +Gazing upon a late embarked friend, +Till the wild waves will have him seen no more, +Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend: 820 + So did the merciless and pitchy night + Fold in the object that did feed her sight. + +Whereat amaz’d, as one that unaware +Hath dropp’d a precious jewel in the flood, 824 +Or ’stonish’d as night-wanderers often are, +Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood; + Even so confounded in the dark she lay, + Having lost the fair discovery of her way. 828 + +And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans, +That all the neighbour caves, as seeming troubled, +Make verbal repetition of her moans; +Passion on passion deeply is redoubled: 832 + “Ay me!” she cries, and twenty times, “Woe, woe!” + And twenty echoes twenty times cry so. + +She marking them, begins a wailing note, +And sings extemporally a woeful ditty; 836 +How love makes young men thrall, and old men dote, +How love is wise in folly foolish witty: + Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe, + And still the choir of echoes answer so. 840 + +Her song was tedious, and outwore the night, +For lovers’ hours are long, though seeming short, +If pleas’d themselves, others they think, delight +In such like circumstance, with such like sport: 844 + Their copious stories oftentimes begun, + End without audience, and are never done. + +For who hath she to spend the night withal, +But idle sounds resembling parasites; 848 +Like shrill-tongu’d tapsters answering every call, +Soothing the humour of fantastic wits? + She says, “’Tis so:” they answer all, “’Tis so;” + And would say after her, if she said “No.” 852 + +Lo here the gentle lark, weary of rest, +From his moist cabinet mounts up on high, +And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast +The sun ariseth in his majesty; 856 + Who doth the world so gloriously behold, + That cedar tops and hills seem burnish’d gold. + +Venus salutes him with this fair good morrow: +“Oh thou clear god, and patron of all light, 860 +From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow +The beauteous influence that makes him bright, + There lives a son that suck’d an earthly mother, + May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other.” + +This said, she hasteth to a myrtle grove, 865 +Musing the morning is so much o’erworn, +And yet she hears no tidings of her love; +She hearkens for his hounds and for his horn. 868 + Anon she hears them chant it lustily, + And all in haste she coasteth to the cry. + +And as she runs, the bushes in the way +Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face, 872 +Some twine about her thigh to make her stay: +She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace, + Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ache, + Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake. 876 + +By this she hears the hounds are at a bay, +Whereat she starts like one that spies an adder +Wreath’d up in fatal folds just in his way, +The fear whereof doth make him shake and shudder; 880 + Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds + Appals her senses, and her spirit confounds. + +For now she knows it is no gentle chase, +But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud, 884 +Because the cry remaineth in one place, +Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud, + Finding their enemy to be so curst, + They all strain court’sy who shall cope him first. 888 + +This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear, +Through which it enters to surprise her heart; +Who overcome by doubt and bloodless fear, +With cold-pale weakness numbs each feeling part; 892 + Like soldiers when their captain once doth yield, + They basely fly and dare not stay the field. + +Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy, +Till cheering up her senses sore dismay’d, 896 +She tells them ’tis a causeless fantasy, +And childish error, that they are afraid; + Bids them leave quaking, bids them fear no more: + And with that word, she spied the hunted boar. 900 + +Whose frothy mouth bepainted all with red, +Like milk and blood being mingled both together, +A second fear through all her sinews spread, +Which madly hurries her she knows not whither: 904 + This way she runs, and now she will no further, + But back retires, to rate the boar for murther. + +A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways, +She treads the path that she untreads again; 908 +Her more than haste is mated with delays, +Like the proceedings of a drunken brain, + Full of respects, yet naught at all respecting, + In hand with all things, naught at all effecting. + +Here kennel’d in a brake she finds a hound, 913 +And asks the weary caitiff for his master, +And there another licking of his wound, +’Gainst venom’d sores the only sovereign plaster. 916 + And here she meets another sadly scowling, + To whom she speaks, and he replies with howling. + +When he hath ceas’d his ill-resounding noise, +Another flap-mouth’d mourner, black and grim, 920 +Against the welkin volleys out his voice; +Another and another answer him, + Clapping their proud tails to the ground below, + Shaking their scratch’d ears, bleeding as they go. + +Look how the world’s poor people are amazed 925 +At apparitions, signs, and prodigies, +Whereon with fearful eyes they long have gazed, +Infusing them with dreadful prophecies; 928 + So she at these sad signs draws up her breath, + And sighing it again, exclaims on death. + +“Hard-favour’d tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean, 931 +Hateful divorce of love,” thus chides she death, +“Grim-grinning ghost, earth’s worm, what dost thou mean? +To stifle beauty and to steal his breath, + Who when he liv’d, his breath and beauty set + Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet. 936 + +“If he be dead, O no, it cannot be, +Seeing his beauty, thou shouldst strike at it, +O yes, it may, thou hast no eyes to see, +But hatefully at random dost thou hit. 940 + Thy mark is feeble age, but thy false dart + Mistakes that aim, and cleaves an infant’s heart. + +“Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke, +And hearing him, thy power had lost his power. 944 +The destinies will curse thee for this stroke; +They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck’st a flower. + Love’s golden arrow at him should have fled, + And not death’s ebon dart to strike him dead. 948 + +“Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok’st such weeping? +What may a heavy groan advantage thee? +Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping +Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see? 952 + Now nature cares not for thy mortal vigour, + Since her best work is ruin’d with thy rigour.” + +Here overcome, as one full of despair, +She vail’d her eyelids, who like sluices stopp’d 956 +The crystal tide that from her two cheeks fair +In the sweet channel of her bosom dropp’d + But through the flood-gates breaks the silver rain, + And with his strong course opens them again. 960 + +O how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow; +Her eyes seen in the tears, tears in her eye; +Both crystals, where they view’d each other’s sorrow, +Sorrow that friendly sighs sought still to dry; 964 + But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain, + Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again. + +Variable passions throng her constant woe, +As striving who should best become her grief; 968 +All entertain’d, each passion labours so, +That every present sorrow seemeth chief, + But none is best, then join they all together, + Like many clouds consulting for foul weather. 972 + +By this, far off she hears some huntsman holla; +A nurse’s song ne’er pleas’d her babe so well: +The dire imagination she did follow +This sound of hope doth labour to expel; 976 + For now reviving joy bids her rejoice, + And flatters her it is Adonis’ voice. + +Whereat her tears began to turn their tide, +Being prison’d in her eye, like pearls in glass; 980 +Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside, +Which her cheek melts, as scorning it should pass + To wash the foul face of the sluttish ground, + Who is but drunken when she seemeth drown’d. + +O hard-believing love, how strange it seems 985 +Not to believe, and yet too credulous; +Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes; +Despair and hope make thee ridiculous, 988 + The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely, + In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly. + +Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought, +Adonis lives, and death is not to blame; 992 +It was not she that call’d him all to naught; +Now she adds honours to his hateful name. + She clepes him king of graves, and grave for kings, + Imperious supreme of all mortal things. 996 + +“No, no,” quoth she, “sweet death, I did but jest; +Yet pardon me, I felt a kind of fear +Whenas I met the boar, that bloody beast, +Which knows no pity, but is still severe; 1000 + Then, gentle shadow,—truth I must confess— + I rail’d on thee, fearing my love’s decease. + +“’Tis not my fault, the boar provok’d my tongue; +Be wreak’d on him, invisible commander; 1004 +’Tis he, foul creature, that hath done thee wrong; +I did but act, he’s author of my slander. + Grief hath two tongues, and never woman yet, + Could rule them both, without ten women’s wit.” + +Thus hoping that Adonis is alive, 1009 +Her rash suspect she doth extenuate; +And that his beauty may the better thrive, +With death she humbly doth insinuate; 1012 + Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs and stories + His victories, his triumphs and his glories. + +“O love!” quoth she, “how much a fool was I, +To be of such a weak and silly mind, 1016 +To wail his death who lives, and must not die +Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind; + For he being dead, with him is beauty slain, + And beauty dead, black Chaos comes again. 1020 + +“Fie, fie, fond love, thou art as full of fear +As one with treasure laden, hemm’d with thieves, +Trifles unwitnessed with eye or ear, +Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.” 1024 + Even at this word she hears a merry horn, + Whereat she leaps that was but late forlorn. + +As falcon to the lure, away she flies; +The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light, 1028 +And in her haste unfortunately spies +The foul boar’s conquest on her fair delight; + Which seen, her eyes, as murder’d with the view, + Like stars asham’d of day, themselves withdrew. + +Or as the snail, whose tender horns being hit, 1033 +Shrinks backwards in his shelly cave with pain, +And there all smother’d up, in shade doth sit, +Long after fearing to creep forth again: 1036 + So at his bloody view her eyes are fled + Into the deep dark cabins of her head. + +Where they resign their office and their light +To the disposing of her troubled brain, 1040 +Who bids them still consort with ugly night, +And never wound the heart with looks again; + Who like a king perplexed in his throne, + By their suggestion gives a deadly groan. 1044 + +Whereat each tributary subject quakes, +As when the wind imprison’d in the ground, +Struggling for passage, earth’s foundation shakes, +Which with cold terror doth men’s minds confound. + This mutiny each part doth so surprise 1049 + That from their dark beds once more leap her eyes. + +And being open’d, threw unwilling light +Upon the wide wound that the boar had trench’d +In his soft flank, whose wonted lily white 1053 +With purple tears that his wound wept, was drench’d. + No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf or weed, + But stole his blood and seem’d with him to bleed. + +This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth, 1057 +Over one shoulder doth she hang her head, +Dumbly she passions, franticly she doteth; +She thinks he could not die, he is not dead: 1060 + Her voice is stopp’d, her joints forget to bow, + Her eyes are mad, that they have wept till now. + +Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly, +That her sight dazzling makes the wound seem three; +And then she reprehends her mangling eye, 1065 +That makes more gashes, where no breach should be: + His face seems twain, each several limb is doubled, + For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled. + +“My tongue cannot express my grief for one, 1069 +And yet,” quoth she, “behold two Adons dead! +My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone, +Mine eyes are turn’d to fire, my heart to lead: 1072 + Heavy heart’s lead, melt at mine eyes’ red fire! + So shall I die by drops of hot desire. + +“Alas poor world, what treasure hast thou lost! +What face remains alive that’s worth the viewing? +Whose tongue is music now? what canst thou boast +Of things long since, or anything ensuing? 1078 + The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim, + But true sweet beauty liv’d and died with him. + +“Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear! 1081 +Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you: +Having no fair to lose, you need not fear; +The sun doth scorn you, and the wind doth hiss you. + But when Adonis liv’d, sun and sharp air 1085 + Lurk’d like two thieves, to rob him of his fair. + +“And therefore would he put his bonnet on, +Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep; 1088 +The wind would blow it off, and being gone, +Play with his locks; then would Adonis weep; + And straight, in pity of his tender years, + They both would strive who first should dry his tears. + +“To see his face the lion walk’d along 1093 +Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him; +To recreate himself when he hath sung, +The tiger would be tame and gently hear him. 1096 + If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his prey, + And never fright the silly lamb that day. + +“When he beheld his shadow in the brook, +The fishes spread on it their golden gills; 1100 +When he was by, the birds such pleasure took, +That some would sing, some other in their bills + Would bring him mulberries and ripe-red cherries, + He fed them with his sight, they him with berries. + +“But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar, 1105 +Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave, +Ne’er saw the beauteous livery that he wore; +Witness the entertainment that he gave. 1108 + If he did see his face, why then I know + He thought to kiss him, and hath kill’d him so. + +“’Tis true, ’tis true; thus was Adonis slain: +He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear, 1112 +Who did not whet his teeth at him again, +But by a kiss thought to persuade him there; + And nuzzling in his flank, the loving swine + Sheath’d unaware the tusk in his soft groin. 1116 + +“Had I been tooth’d like him, I must confess, +With kissing him I should have kill’d him first; +But he is dead, and never did he bless +My youth with his; the more am I accurst.” 1120 + With this she falleth in the place she stood, + And stains her face with his congealed blood. + +She looks upon his lips, and they are pale; +She takes him by the hand, and that is cold, 1124 +She whispers in his ears a heavy tale, +As if they heard the woeful words she told; +She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes, +Where lo, two lamps burnt out in darkness lies. + +Two glasses where herself herself beheld 1129 +A thousand times, and now no more reflect; +Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell’d, +And every beauty robb’d of his effect. 1132 + “Wonder of time,” quoth she, “this is my spite, + That thou being dead, the day should yet be light. + +“Since thou art dead, lo here I prophesy, +Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend: 1136 +It shall be waited on with jealousy, +Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end; + Ne’er settled equally, but high or low, + That all love’s pleasure shall not match his woe. + +“It shall be fickle, false and full of fraud, 1141 +Bud, and be blasted in a breathing while; +The bottom poison, and the top o’erstraw’d +With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile. 1144 + The strongest body shall it make most weak, + Strike the wise dumb, and teach the fool to speak. + +“It shall be sparing, and too full of riot, +Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures; 1148 +The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet, +Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures; + It shall be raging mad, and silly mild, + Make the young old, the old become a child. 1152 + +“It shall suspect where is no cause of fear, +It shall not fear where it should most mistrust; +It shall be merciful, and too severe, +And most deceiving when it seems most just; 1156 + Perverse it shall be, where it shows most toward, + Put fear to valour, courage to the coward. + +“It shall be cause of war and dire events, +And set dissension ’twixt the son and sire; 1160 +Subject and servile to all discontents, +As dry combustious matter is to fire, + Sith in his prime death doth my love destroy, + They that love best their love shall not enjoy.” 1164 + +By this the boy that by her side lay kill’d +Was melted like a vapour from her sight, +And in his blood that on the ground lay spill’d, +A purple flower sprung up, chequer’d with white, 1168 + Resembling well his pale cheeks, and the blood + Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood. + +She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell, +Comparing it to her Adonis’ breath; 1172 +And says within her bosom it shall dwell, +Since he himself is reft from her by death; + She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears + Green-dropping sap, which she compares to tears. + +“Poor flower,” quoth she, “this was thy father’s guise, +Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire, +For every little grief to wet his eyes, +To grow unto himself was his desire, 1180 + And so ’tis thine; but know, it is as good + To wither in my breast as in his blood. + +“Here was thy father’s bed, here in my breast; +Thou art the next of blood, and ’tis thy right: 1184 +Lo in this hollow cradle take thy rest, +My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night: + There shall not be one minute in an hour + Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love’s flower.” + +Thus weary of the world, away she hies, 1189 +And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid +Their mistress mounted through the empty skies, +In her light chariot quickly is convey’d; 1192 + Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen + Means to immure herself and not be seen. + + + FINIS + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1045 *** |