« ZurückWeiter »
This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth;
Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly
That her sight dazzling makes the wound seem three; And then she reprehends her mangling eye
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, And yet," quoth she, " behold two Adons dead! My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone, Mine eyes are turned to fire, my heart to lead: 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 any thing ensuing?
The flowers are sweet, their colors fresh and trim ; But true-sweet beauty lived and died with him.
"Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear! Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you: Having no fair1 to lose, you need not fear;
The sun doth scorn you, and the wind doth : hiss
1 Fair, beauty.
But when Adonis lived, sun and sharp air
"And therefore would he put his bonnet on,
They both would strive who first should dry his
"To see his face the lion walked along
Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him.
The tiger would be tame and gently hear him:
When he beheld his shadow in the brook The fishes spread on it their golden gills; 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 cher
He fed them with his sight, they him with berries.
"But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted1 boar,
If he did see his face, why then I know
1 Urchin-snouted, with the snout of the urchin, or hedgehog.
'Tis true, 'tis true; thus was Adonis slain;
"Had I been toothed like him I must confess
She looks upon his lips, and they are pale;
As if they heard the woful 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
"Wonder of time," quoth she, "this is my spite, That you being dead the day should yet be light
"Since thou art dead, lo! here I prophesy,
That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe.
"It shall be fickle, false, and full of fraud, Bud and be blasted in a breathing while; The bottom poison, and the top o'erstrawed1 With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile : 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; The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet,
Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treas
It shall be raging mad, and silly mild,
Make the young old, the old become a child.
"It shall suspect, where is no cause of fear,
"It shall be cause of war and dire events,
Sith in his prime death doth my love destroy,
By this, the boy that by her side lay killed
1 O'erstrawed, o'erstrewed.
2 Measures, grave dances suited to age.
And in his blood that on the ground lay spilled,
She bows her head, the new sprung flower to smell, Comparing it to her Adonis' breath;
And say's, 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
(Sweet issue of a more sweet smelling sire,) For every little grief to wet his eyes:
To grow unto himself was his desire,
And so 'tis thine; but know, it is as good
"Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast. Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right: Lo! in this hollow cradle take thy rest,
My throbbing heart shall rock thee, day and night: There shall not be one minnte in an hour Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower."
Thus weary of the world, away she hies,
Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen