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Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy;
He kisses her; and she, by her good will, And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee, Would never rise, so he will kiss her still. To take advantage on presented joy;
The night of sorrow now is turn’d to day: Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee: Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth, 0! learn to love ; the lesson is but plain,
Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array And, once made perfect, never lost again.
He cheers the morn, and all the world relieveth: I know not love, (quoth he,) nor will not know it, And as the bright sun glorifies the sky, Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it ;
So is her face illumin’d with her eye; 'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it;
Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd My love to love is love but to disgrace it;
As if from thence they borrow'd all their shine. For I have heard it is a life in death,
Were never four such lamps together mix'd, That laughs, and weeps, and all but with a breath. Had not his clouded with his brows' repine ; Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd ? But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light, Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth? Shone like the moon, in water seen by night. If springing things be any jot diminish'd,
O, where am I ? quoth she, in earth or heaven, They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth :
Or in the ocean drench'd, or in the fire ?
Do I delight to die, or life desire ?
Thy eye's shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine, Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your fattery ; | Haih laught them scornful tricks, and such disdain, For where a heart is hard, they make no battery.
That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine ; What! canst thou talk, quoth she, hast thou a tongue? And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen, 0, would thou had'st not, or I had no hearing! But for thy piteous lips no more had seen. Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong; Long may they kiss each other for this cure ! I had my load before, now press'd with bearing : 0, never let their crimson liveries wear! Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh-sounding, And as they last, their verdure still endure, Ear's deep sweet music, and heart's deep-sore- To drive infection from the dangerous year!! wounding.
That the star-gazers, having writ on death, Had I no eyes, but ears, my ears would love
the plague is banish'd by thy breath. That inward beauty and invisible,
Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, Or, were I deaf, thy outward parts would move What bargains may I make, still io be sealing ?
I Each part in me that were bui sensible :
To sell myself I can be well contented, Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see, So thou wilt buy, and pay, and use good dealing, Yet should I be in love, by touching thee.
Which purchase is thou make, for fear of slips Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me,
Set thy 'seal-manual on my wax-red lips. And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, A thousand kisses buys my heart from me; And nothing but the very smell were left me, And pay them at thy leisure, one by one. Yet would my love to thee be still as much; What is ten hundred touches unto thee? For from the still tory of thy face excelling [ing. Are they not quickly told and quickly gone ? Comes breath perfum'd, thai breedeth love by smell. Say, for non-payment that the debt should double ; But 0, what banquet wert thou to the taste,
Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble ? Being nurse and feeder of the other four !
Fair queen, quoth he, if any love you owo me, Would they not wish the feast might ever last,
Measure my strangeness with my unripe years ; And bid Suspicion double lock the door?
Before I know myself seek not to know me; Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,
No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears :
Or being early pluck'd, is sour to taste.
Look, the world's comforter, with weary gait,
His day's hot task hath ended in the west :
The owl, night's herald, shrieks, 'us very late; Sorrow to shepherds, wo unto the birds,
The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest; Gusts and foul flaws to herumen and to herds.
And coal-black clouds, that shadow heaven's light,
Do summon us to pari, and bid good night. This ill presage advisedly she marketh :-
Now let me say good night, and so say you;
say so, you shall have a kiss. Or as the wolf doth grin before he barkeih,
Good nighi, quoth she; and ere he says adieu, Or as the berry breaks before it staineth,
The honey see of parting tender'd is : Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,
Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace ; His meaning struck her, ere his words begun.
Incorporate then they seem; face grows to face. And at his look she flatly falleth down, For looks kill love, and love hy looks reviveth :
Till, breathless, he disjoin'd, and backward drew
The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth, A smile recures the wounding of a frown ;
Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew, But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth! Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drought; The silly boy believing she is dead,
He with her plenty press’d, she faint with dearti, Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red;
(Their lips together glue'd,) fall to the earth. And all-amaz'd brake off his late intent,
Now quick Desire hath caught the yielding prey, For sharply he did think to reprehend her,
And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth; Which cutining love did wintily prevent:
1. To drive infection from the dangerous year.'--I Fair fall the wit, that can so well defend her!
have somewhere read, that in rooms where plants are For on the grass she lies, as she were slain,
kept in a growing state, the air is never unwholesome. Till his breath breatheth life in her again.
Siperens. He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks, ? 'Say for non-payment that the debt should double.'
-It was once usual when a sum of money, secured by He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard;
bond, remained unpaid at the prescribed time, to leave He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks
the lender at liberty to recover twice the amount.-- MaTo mend the hurt that his unkindness marr’d; lone.
Hor lips are conquerors, nis lips obey,
His eyes, like glow-worms, shine when he doth fret; Payıng what ransom the insulter willeth:
His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes; Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high, Being mov'd, he strikes what e'er is in his way, That she will draw his lips' rich treasure dry. And whom he strikes, his cruel tushes slay. And having felt the sweetness of the spoil, His brawny sides, with hairy bristles arm'd, With blindfold fury she begins to forage;
Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter ; Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil, His short thick neck cannot be easily harm'd; And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage ;
Being ireful, on the lion he will venture : Planting oblivion, beating reason back,
The thorny brambles and embracing bushes, Forgetting shame's pure blush, and honour's wreck. As fearful of him, part; through whom he rushes. Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard embracing, Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine, Like a wild bird being tam'd with too much handling, To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes; Or as the feet-foot roe, that's tir'd with chasing, Nor thy soft hands, sweei lips, and crystal eyne, Or like the froward infant, stilld with dandling, Whose full perfection all the world amazes; He now obeys, and now no more resisteth,
But having thee at vantage, (wondrous dread!). While she takes all she can, not all she listeth. Would root these beauties as he roots the mead. What wax so frozen, but dissolves with temp'ring, O, let him keep his loathsome cabin still ; And yields at last to every light impression? Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends : Things out of hope are compassid oft with vent'ring, Come not within his danger by thy will; Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission : They that thrive well, take counsel of their friends; Affection faints not like a pale-fac'd coward, When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble, But then woos best, when most his choice is froward. I feard thy fortune, and my joints did tremble. When he did frown, O, had she then gave over,
Did'st thou not mark my face? Was it not white ? Such nectar from his lips she had not suck’d. Saw'st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye ? Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover;
Grew I not faint ? And fell I not downright? What though the rose have prickles, yet ’uis pluck'd: Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie, Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest, Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last. But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast For pity now she can no more detain him; For where love reigns, disturbing jealousy The poor fool prays her that he may depart:
Doth call himself affection's sentinel ;
Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny,
As air and water do abate the fire.
Knocks at my heart, and whispers in mine ear,
The picture of an angry chafing boar,
Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed, He on her belly falls, she on her back.
Doth make them droop with grief, and hang the head. Now is she in the very lists of love,
What should I do, seeing thee so indeed, Her champion mounted for the hot encounter :
That tremble at the imagination ? All is imaginary she doth prove,
The thought of it doth make my faint heart bloed, He will not manage her although he mount her ;
And fear doth teach it divination : That worse than Tantalus' is her annoy,
I prophesy thy death, my living sorrow, To clip Elysium, and to lack her joy.
If thou encounter with the boar to-morrow. Even as poor birds, deceiv'd with painted grapos,"
But if thou needs wilt hunt, be rul'd by mo Do surfeii by the eye, and pine the maw,
Uncouple at the timorous flying hare, Even so she languisheth in her mishaps,
Or at the fox, which lives by subtlety, As those poor birds that helpless berries saw : Or at the roe, which no encounter dare : The warm effects which she in him finds missing,
Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs, She seeks to kindle with continual kissing : And on thy well-breath'd horse keep with thy hounds. But all in vain ; good queen, it will not be :
And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare, She hath assay'd as much as may be provid;
Mark the poor wretch, to overshut his troubles, Her pleading hath deserv'd a greater fee ;
How he out-runs the wind, and with what caro She's Love, she loves, and yet she is not lov'd. He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles : Fie, fie, he says, you crush me ; let me go; The many musits through the which he goes, You have no reason to withhold me so.
Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes. Thou had'st been gone, quoth she, sweet boy, ere To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell ;
Sometimes he runs among a flock of sheep, this, But that thou told'st me, thou would'st hunt the boar. And sometime where earth-delving conies keep, 0, be advis'd: thou know'st not what it is
To stop the loud pursuers in their yell; With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore,
And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer; Whose tushes never sheath'd, he whetteth still,
Danger deviseth shifts ; wit waits on fear: Like to a' mortal butcher, bent to kill.
For there his smell with others being mingled, On his bow-back he hath a battle set
The hot-scent snuffing hounds are driven to doubt; Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes;
Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled
With much ado the cold fault cleanly out; 8 'Even as poor birds, deceiv'd with painted grapes.' As if another chase were in the skies.
Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies, -An allusion to a picture of Zeuxis, mentioned by Pliny, in which some grapes were so well represented, that By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill, birde lighted on them to pick at them.-Steedens. Stands on his hinder legs with listening oar,
To hearken if his foes pursue him still ;
Bewitching like the wanlon mermaid's songs, Anon their loud alarums he doth hear ;
Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown ; And now his grief may be compared well
For know, my heart stands armed in mine ear, To one sore sick, that hears the passing bell. And will not let a false sound enter there ; Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabled wretch Lest the deceiving harmony should run Turn, and return, indenting with the way; Into the quiet closure of my breast; Each'envious briar his weary legs doth scratch, And then my little heart were quite undone, Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay: In his bed chamber to be barrd of rest. For misery is trodden on by many,
No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan, And being low, never reliev'd by any.
But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone. Lie quietly, and hear a little more ;
What have you urg'd, that I cannot reprove ? Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise : The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger; To make thee hate the hunting of the boar, I hate not love, but your device in love, Unlike myself thou hear'st me moralize,
That lends embracements unto every stranger. Applying this to that, and so to so;
You do it for increase, O, strange excuse ! For love can comment upon every wo.
When reason is the bawd to lust's abuse. Where did I leave ?-No matter where, quoth he; Call it not love, for Love to heaven is fled, Leave me, and then the story aptly ends : Since sweating Lust on earth usurp'd his name, The night is spent. Why, what of that ? quoth she: Under whose simple semblance he hath fed I am, quoth he, expected of my friends;
Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame; And now 'tis dark, and going I shall fall :
Which the hot tyrant stains, and soon bereaves, In night, quoth shé, desire sees best of all. As caterpillars do the tender leaves. But if thou fall, O then imagine this,
Love comforteth, like sunshine after rain; The earth, in love with thee, thy footing trips,
But lust's effect is tempest after sun: And all is but to rob thee of a kiss.
Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Rich preys make true men thieves ; so do thy lips
Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done. Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn,
Love surfeits not; lust like a glutton dies :
Therefore in sadness, now I will away;
With this he breaketh from the sweet embrace To cross the curious workmanship of nature ;
of those fair arms which bound him to her breast, To mingle beauty with infirmities,
And homeward through the dark lawn runs apace; And pure perfection with impure defeature ; Leaves Love upon her back deeply distress'd. Making it subject to the tyranny
Look, how a bright star shooteth from the sky, Of mad inischances, and much misery ;
So glides he in the night from Venus' eye ;
Which after him she darts, as one on shore
Till the wild waves will have him seen no more, Disorder breeds by heating of the blood :
Whose ridges with the morning clouds contend: Surfeits, imposthumes, grief, and damn'd despair, So did the merciless and pitchy night Swear nature's death for framing thee so fair.
Fold in the object that did feed her sight. And not the least of all these maladies,
Whereat amaz'd, as one that unaware But in one minute's fight brings beauty under: Hath dropp'd a precious jewel in the flood, Both favour, savour, hue, and qualities,
Or 'stonish'd as night-wanderers often are, Whereat the impartial gazer late did wonder, Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood , Are on the sudden wasted, thaw'd, and done, Even so confounded in the dark she lay, As mountain-snow melts with the mid-day sun. Having lost the fair discovery of her way. Therefore, despite of fruitless chastity,
And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans, Love-lacking vestals, and self-loving nuns,
That all the neighbour-caves, as seeming troubled, That on the earth would breed a scarcity,
Make verbal repetition of her moans; And barren dearth of daughters and of sons, Passion on passion deeply is redoubled : Be prodigal : the lamp that burns by night,
Ah me ! she cries, and twenty times, wo, wo! Dries up his oil, to lend the world his light. And twenty echoes twenty times cry so. What is thy body but a swallowing grave, She, marking them, begins a wailing note, Seeming to bury that posterity,
And sings extemp'rally a woful ditty;
(dote ; Which by the rights of time thou needs must have, How love makes young men thrall, and old men If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity ?
How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty : If so, the world will hold thee in disdain,
Her heavy anthem still concludes in wo, Sith in thy pride so fair a hope is slain.
And still the choir of echoes answer so. So in thyself thyself art made away;
Her song was tedious, and outwore the night, A mischief worse than civil home-bred strife, For lovers' hours are long, though seeming short : Or theirs, whose desperate hands themselves do slay, If pleas'd themselves, others, they think, delight Or butcher sire, that reaves his son of life. In such like circumstance, with such like sport : Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, Their copious stories, oftentimes begun, But gold that's put to use, more gold begets. End without audience, and are never done. Nay then, quoth Adon, you will fall again
For who hath she to spend the night withal, Into your idle over-handlod theme;
But idle sounds resembling parasites ; The kiss I gave you is bestow'd in vain,
Like shrill-tongu'd tapsters answering every call, And all in vain you strive against the stream; Soothing the humour of fantastic wits? For by this black-fac'd night, desire's foul nurse, She says, 'tis 80 : they answer all, 'tis 80 ; Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse. And would say after her, if she said
no. If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues, Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest, And every tongue more moving than your own, From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,
And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast, Grim-grinning ghost, earth's worm, what dost thou The Sun ariseth in his majesty;
To stile beauty and to steal his breath, (mean, Who doth the world so gloriously behold,
Who when he liv'd, his breath and beauty set That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold. Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet ? Venus salutes him with this fair good-morrow : If he be dead,—0, no, it cannot be, 0, thou clear god, and patron of all light, Seeing his beauty, thou should'st strike at it;From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow o, yes, it may ; thou hast no eyes to see, The beauteous influence that makes him bright, But hatefully at random dost thou hit. There lives a son, that suck'd an earthly mother, Thy mark is feeble age; but thy false dart May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other. Mistakes that aim, and cleaves an infant's heart This said, she hasteth to a myrtle grove,
Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke, Musing the morning is so much o'er-worn: And hearing him, thy power had lost his power, And yel she hears no tidings of her love :
The destinies will curse thee for this stroke; She hearkens for his hounds, and for his horn : They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck'st a flower : Anon she hears them chaunt it lustily,
Love's golden arrow at him should have fled, And all in haste she coasteth to the cry.
And noi death's ebon dart, to strike him dead. And as she runs, the bushes in the way
Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok'st such weepSome catch her by the neck, some kiss her face, What may a heavy groan advantage thee? [ing? Some twin'd about her thigh to make her stay ; Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace, Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see? Like a milch doo, whose swelling dugs do ake, Now Nature cares not for thy mortal vigour, Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake. Since her best work is ruin'd with thy rigour. By this she hears the hounds are at a bay, Here overcome, as one full of despair, Whereat she starts like one that spies an adder She vaild her eye-lids, who, like 'sluices, stopp'd Wreath'd up in fatal folds, just in his way,
The crystal tide that from her two cheeks fair The fear whereof doth make him shake and shudder; In the sweet channel of her bosom dropp'd; Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds But through the flood-gates breaks the silver rain, Appals her senses, and her spright confounds. And with his strong course opens them again. For now she knows it is no gentle chase,
O, how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow! But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud, Her eyes seen in the tears, tears in her eye; (row; Because the cry remaineth in one place,
Both crystals, where they view'd each other's sorWhere fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud:
Sorrow, that friendly sighs sought still to dry; Finding their enemy to be so curst,
But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain, They all strain court'sy, who shall cope him first. Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again. This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear,
Variable passions throng her constant wo, Through which it enters to surprise her heart; As striving who should best become her grief, Who, overcome by doubt and bloodless fear, All entertain'd, each passion labours so, With cold-pale weakness numbs each feeling part: That every present sorrow seemeth chief, Like soldiers, when their captain once doth yield, But none is best; then join they all together, They basely fly, and dare not stay the field. Like many clouds consulting for foul weather. Thus stands she in a trembling ecstacy,
By this far off she hears some huntsman holla ; Till, checring up her senses sore dismay'd,
A nurse's song ne'er pleas'd her babe so well! She tells them, 'tis a causeless fantasy,
The dire imagination she did follow And childish error, that they are afraid;
This sound of hope doth labour to expel; Bids them leave quaking, bids them fear no more ;- For now reviving joy bids her rejoice, And with that word she spy'd the hunted boar ; And flatters her, it is Adonis' voice, Whose frothy inouth, bepainted all with red, Whereat her tears began to turn their tide, Like milk and blood being mingled both together, Being prison'd in her eye, like pearls in glass ; A second fear through all her sinews spread, Yet soinetimes falls an orient drop beside, Which madly hurries her she knows not whíther: Which her cheek melts, as scorning it should pass, This way she runs, and now she will no further, To wash the foul face of the sluttish ground, But back retires to rate the boar for murther. Who is but drunken, when she seemeth drown'd. A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways; 0, hard-believing love, how strange it seems She treads the path that she untreads again; Not to believe, and yet too credulous ! Her more than haste is mated with delays, Thy weal and wo are both of them extremes ; Like the proceedings of a drunken brain ;
Despair and hope make thee ridiculous : Full of respect, yet nought at all respecting :
The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely, In hand with all things, nought at all'etfecting. In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly. Here kennel'd in a brake she finds a hound, Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought; And asks the weary caitiff for his master;
Adonis lives, and death is not to blame; And there another licking of his wound,
It was not she that call'd him all to nought; 'Gainst venom'd sores the only sovereign plaster ; Now she adds honours to his hateful name And here she meets another sadly scowling, She clepes him king of graves and grave for kings To whom she speaks; and he replies with howling. Imperious supreme of all mortal things. When he hath ceas'd his ill-resounding noise, No, no, quoth sho, sweet Death, I did but jost; Another flap-mouth'd mourner, black and grim, Yet pardon me, I felt a kind of fear. Against the welkin vollies out his voice;
When as I met the boar, that bloody beast, Another and another answer him;
Which knows no pity, but is still severe; Clapping their proud tails to the ground below, Then, gentle shadow, (truth I must confess,) Shaking their scratch'd ears, bleeding as they go. I rail'd on thee, fearing my love's decease. Look, how the world's poor people are amaz'd 'Tis not my fault: the boar provok'd my tongue ; At apparitions, signs, and prodigies,
Be wreak'd on him, invisible commander; Whereon with fearful eyes they long have gaz'd, 'Tis he, foul creature, that hath done thee wrong ;. Infusing them with dreadful prophecies;
I did but act, he's author of thy slander: So she at these sad sighs draws up her breath, Grief hath two tongues, and never woman yet And, sighing it again, exclaims on death.
Could rule them both, without ten women's wit. Hard-favour'd tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean, Thus hoping that Adonis is alive, Hateful divorce of love," (thus chidés she death,) Her rash suspect she doth extonuato ;
And that his beauty may the better thrive, The wind would blow it off, and, being gone,
Play with his locks; then would Adonis weep:
Behind some bedge, because he would not fear him: To wail his death, who lives, and must not die, To recreate himself when he hath sung, Till mutual overthrow of mortal kid!
The tiger would be tame, and gently hear him; For he being dead, with him is beauty slain, If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his prcy, And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again. And never fright the silly lamb that day. Fie, fre, fond love, thou art so full of fear,
When he beheld his shadow in the brook, As one with treasure laden, hemm'd with thieves; The fishes spread on it their golden gills; Trifles, unwitnessed with eye or ear,
When he was by, the birds such pleasure took Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves. That some would sing, some other in their bills Even at this word she hears a merry horn,
Would bring him mulberries, and ripe-red cherries, Whereat she leaps, that was but late forlorn. He fed them with his sight, they him with berries. As falcon to the lure, away she flies ;
But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar, The grass stoops not, she ireads on it so light; Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave, And in her haste unfortunately spies
Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore; The foul boar's conquest on her fair delight;
Witness the entertainment that he gave : Which seen, her eyes, as murder'd with the view, If he did see his face, why then I know, Like stars ashamid of day, themselves withdrew. He thought to kiss him, and hath kili'd him so. Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit, "Tis true, 'tis true; thus was Adoms slain : Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain,
He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear, And ibere, all smother'd up in shade doth sil, Who did not whet his teeth at him again, Long after fearing to creep forth again;
But by a kiss thought to persuade him there; So, at his bloody view, her eyes are fied
And nuzzling in his flank, the loving swine Into the deep dark cabins of her head :
Sheath’d, unaware, the lusk in his soft groin. Where they resign their office and their light Had I been tooth'd like him, I must confess, To the disposing of her troubled brain ;
With kissing him I should have kill'd him first; Who bids ihem still consort with ugly night, But he is dead, and never did he bless And never wound the heart with looks aga.n;
M youth with his; the more am I accurst. Who, like a king perplexed in his throne,
With this she falleth in the place she stood, By their suggestion gives a deadly groan,
Ad stauns her face with his congealed blood. Whereat each tributary subject quakes;
She looks upon his lips, and they are pale; As when the wind, imprison'd in the ground, She takes him by the hand, and that is cold; Struggling for passage, earth's foundation shakes, Sie whispers in his ears a heavy tale, Which with cold terror doth men's minds confound: As if they heard the woful words she told: This mutiny each part doth so surprise,
She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes, That from their dark beds, onco more leap her eyes; Where, lo! two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies: And, being open'd, threw unwilling light,
Two glasses, where herself herself beheld Upon the wide wound that the boar had trench'd A thousand times, and now no more reflect; In his soft flank : whose wonted lily white Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell'd, With purple tears, that his wound wept, was drench'd: And every beauty robb’d of his effect : No flower was nigh, no grass, berb, leaf, or weed, Wonder of time, quoth she, this is my spite, But stole his blood, and seem'd with him to bleed. That, you being dead, the day should yet be light This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth;
Since thou art dead, lo! here I prophesy, Over one shoulder doth she hang her head;
Sorrow on love hereafier shall attend : Dumbly sho passions, franticly she doteth; Je shall be waited on with jealousy, She thinks he could not die, he is not dead: Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end; Her voice is stopp’d, her joints forget to bow ; Ne’er settled equally, but high or low; Her eyes are mad, that they have wept till now. That all love's pleasure shall not match his wo. Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly,
It shall be fickle, false, and full of fraud; That her sight dazzling makes the wound seem three; Bud and be blasted in a breathing-while'; And then she reprehends her mangling eye, The bottom poison, and the top o'er-straw'd That makes more gashes where no breach should be: With sweets, that shall the truest sight beguile : His face seems twain, each several limb is doubled; The strongest body shall it make most weak; For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.' Strike the wise dumb, and teach the fool to speak My tongue cannot express iny grief for one, It shall be sparing and too full of riot, And yet, quoth she, behold two Adons dead! Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures ;' My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone,
The staring rutlan shall it keep in quiet, Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead: Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures : Heavy heart's lead, melt at mine eyes' red fire! It shall be raging-mad, and silly-mild, So shall I die by drops of hot desire.
Make the young old, the old become a child. Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost! It shall suspect, where is no cause of fear; What face remains alive that's worth the viewing? It shall not fear, where it should most mistrust Whose tongue is music now! what canst thou boast It shall be merciful, and too severe, Or things long since, or any thing ensuing? And most deceiving, when it seems most just; The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim, Perverse it shall be, where it shews most toward ; But true-sweet beauty liv'd and died with him. Put fear to valour, courage to the coward. Bonnet por veil henceforth no creature wear! It shall be cause of war, and dire events, Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you: And set dissension 'twixt the son and sire; Having no fair to lose, you need not fear; Subject and servile to all discontents, The sun doth scorn you, and the wind doth hiss you: As dry combustious matter is to fire; But when Adonis liv'd, sun and sharp air Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of his fair : | * To tread the measures.'-The measures was a very And therefore would he put his bonnet on,
stately dance, and, therefore, was peculiarly suited 10 Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep,
elders, if they engaged at all in such kind of amusement.-Malone.