O hard-believing love! how strange it seems
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,

992

Adonis lives, and Death is not to blame;
It was not sue that call'd him all to naught,
Now she adds honours to his hateful name;
She clenes 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 nity, but is still severe; Then, gentle shadow,-truth I must confess,

1000

1016

'O Jove!' quoth she, 'how much a fool was I,
To be of such a weak and silly mind
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. 'Fie, fie, fond love! thou art so full of fear 1021 As one with treasure laden, hemm'd with thieves;

Trifles, unwitnessed with eye or зar,

Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.' Even at this word she hears a merry horn, Whereat she leaps that was but late forlorn.

1045

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 Who bids them still consort with ugly night, To the disposing of her troubled brain; And never wound the heart with looks again; Who, like a king perplexed in his throne, By their suggestion gives a deadly groan, Whereat each tributary subject quakes; As when the wind, imprison'd in the ground, Struggling for passage, earth's foundation shakes, [found Which with cold terror doth men's minds conThis mutiny each part doth so surprise 1049 That from their dark beds once more leap her

eyes;

1045

In his soft flank; whose wonted lily white
With purple tears, that his wound wept, was
drench'd:
[weed
No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf, or
But stole his blood and seem'd with him to
bleed.
1056

This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth,
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 til.

'Alas! poor world, what treasure hast thou lost? What face remains alive that's worth the viewing? 1076 Whose tongue is music now? what canst thou boast

Of things long since, or anything ensuing? The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim;

[him. But true-sweet beauty liv'd and died with 'Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear! 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 1084

you:

But when Adonis liv'd, sun and sharp air Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of his

fair:

"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.
'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 takes him by the hand, and that is cold;
She looks upon his lips, and they are pale;
She whispers in his ears a heavy tale,
As if they heard the woeful words she told;

1125

She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes, Where, lo! two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies;

1128

Make the young old, the old become a child. 'It shall suspect where is no cause of fear; 1153 It shall not fear where it should most mistrust; It shall be merciful, and too severe, And most deceiving when it seems most just; Perverse it shall be, where it shows most toward, 1157

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.' By this, the boy that by her side lay kill'd 1165 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

'Poor flower,' quoth she, 'this was thy father's guise,

1180

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
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:
Lo! in this hollow cradle take thy rest, 1185
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.'

1185

FROM the besieged Ardea all in post,
Borne by the trustless wings of false desire,
Lust-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman host,
And to Collatium bears the lightless fire 4
Which, in pale embers hid, lurks to aspire,
And girdle with embracing flames the waist
Of Collatine's fair love, Lucrece the chaste.
Haply that name of chaste unhappily set
This bateless edge on his keen appetite;
When Collatine unwisely did not let
To praise the clear unmatched red and white
Which triumph'd in that sky of his delight, 12
Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's
beauties,

8

16

With pure aspects did him peculiar duties. For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent, Unlock'd the treasure of his happy state; What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent In the possession of his beauteous mate; Reckoning his fortune at such high-proud rate, That kings might be espoused to more fame, But king nor peer to such a peerless dame. 21 O happiness enjoy'd but of a few! And, if possess'd, as soon decay'd and done As is the morning's silver-melting dew Against the golden splendour of the sun; An expir'd date, cancell'd ere well begun:

24

29

Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms, Are weakly fortress'd from a world of harms. Beauty itself doth of itself persuade The eyes of men without an orator; What needeth then apology be made To set forth that which is so singular? Or why is Collatine the publisher

32

Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown From thievish ears, because it is his own? Perchance his boast of Lucrece' sovereignty 36 Suggested this proud issue of a king; For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be: Perchance that envy of so rich a thing, Braving compare, disdainfully did sting

40

His high-pitch'd thoughts, that meaner men should vaunt

That golden hap which their superiors want.

But some untimely thought did instigate
His all-too-timeless speed, if none of those: 44
His honour, his affairs, his friends, his state,
Neglected all, with swift intent he goes
To quench the coal which in his liver glows.
Ol rash false heat, wrapp'd in repentant cold,
Thy hasty spring still blasts, and ne'er grows
old.

49