ADONI S.

EVEN as the fun, with purple colour'd face,
Had ta'en his laft leave of the weeping morn,
Rofe-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chace:
Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to fcorn.
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-fac'd fuitor 'gins to woo him.

Thrice fairer than my felf! (thus fhe began)
The fields chief flower! fweet above compare!
Stain to all nymphs! more lovely than a man!
More white and red, than doves or rofes are!

Nature, that made thee, with her felf at ftrife,
Saith, that the world hath ending with thy life.

Vouchfafe thou wonder! to alight thy fteed,
And reign his proud head to the faddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed,
A thousand honey fecrets halt thou know.

Here come and fit, where serpent never hiffes,
And being fet, I'll fmother thee with kiffes.

And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed fatiety,
But rather famifh them amid their plenty;
Making them red and pale with fresh variety:
Ten kiffes fhort as one, one long as twenty.

A fummer's day will feem an hour but short,
Being wafted in fach time-beguiling fport.

With this the feizeth on his fweating palm,
The prefident of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her paffion calls its balm;
Earth's fovereign falve to do a goddess good.
Being fo enrag'd, defire doth lend her force,
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.

Over one arm the lufty courfer's rein,
Under the other was the tender boy,
Who blufh'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 fhame, but frofty in defire.

The ftudded bridle, on a ragged bough,
Nimbly the faftens (O how quick is love!)
The fteed is ftalled up, and even now
To tie the rider the begins to prove.

Backward the pufh'd him, as he would be thruft,

And govern'd him in ftrength, though not in luft.

So foon was the along, as he was down,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:
Now doth fhe ftroke his cheek, now doth
frown,

And 'gins to chide, but foon the flors his lips: And kiffing fpeaks, with luftful languag broken,

If thou wilt chide, thy lips fhall never open.

He burns with bafhful fhame; fhe with her team Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks: Then with her windy fighs, and golden hairs, To fan and blow them dry again she feeks.

He fays the is immodeft, blames her mifs: What follows more, fhe fmothers with a kis

Even as an empty cagle, sharp by fast,
Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone,
Shaking her wings, devouring all in hafle,
Till either gorge be stuft, or prey be gone:

Even fo the kift his brow, his check, his chin,
And where the ends, fhe doth anew begin.

Forc'd to confent, but never to obey,
Panting he lies, and breathing in her face:
She feedeth on the fteam, as on a prey,
And calls it heavenly moisture! air of grace!
Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers,
So they were dew'd with fuch diftilling fhowen.

Look how a bird lies tangled in a net,
So fasten'd in her arms Adonis lies:

Pure fhame and aw'd refiftance 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.

Still the entreats, and prettily entreats:
For to a pretty car fhe tunes her tale.
Still he is fullen, ftill he lowers and frets,
'I'wixt crimson fhame, and anger afhy pale.

Being red fhe loves him beft, and being white,
Her breaft is better'd with a more delight.

Look how he can, fhe cannot choose but love,
And by her fair immortal hand she fwears,
From his foft bofom never to remove,
Till he take truce with her contending tears;
Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all
wet,

And one sweet kifs fhall pay this countless debt.

Upon this promife did he raise his chin,
Like a Dive-dapper peering thro' a wave,
Who being look'd on, ducks as quickly in:
So offers he to give what he did crave;

But when his lips were ready for his pay,
He winks and turns his lips another way.

Never did passenger, in fummer's heat,
More thirst for drink, than fhe for this good

turn;

Her help the fees, but help fhe cannot get,
She baths in water, yet in fire must burn.

Oh pity, gan fhe cry, flint-hearted boy!
Tis but a kifs I beg, why art thou coy?

I have been woo'd, as I intreat thee now,
Ev'n by the ftern and direful god of war,
Whofe finewy neck in battel ne'er did bow,
Who conquers where he comes in every jar:

Yet hath he been my captive and my flave, And begg'd for that, which thou unafk'd fhalt have.

Over my alters hath he hung his lance,
His batter'd fhield, his uncontrolled creft;
And for my fake hath learn'd to fport and dance,
To coy, to wanton, dally, fmile and jeft;

Scorning his churlish drum, and enfign red,
Making my arms his field, his tent my bed.

Thus him, that over-rul'd, I over-sway'd;
Leading him prifoner in a red-rose chain.
Strong temper'd fteel, his stronger ftrength o-
bey'd,

Yet was he fervile to my coy difdain.

Oh be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,
For maftring her, that foil'd the god of fight!

Touch but my lips with thofe fair lips of thine,
(Tho' mine be not fo fair, yet are they red)
The kifs fhall be thine own, as well as mine;
What feelt thou on the ground? hold up thy

head:

Look in mine eye-balls, where thy beauty hes, Then why not lips on lips, fince eyes on eyes?

Seeds fpring from feeds, and beauty breedeth beauty;

Thou wert begot, to get it is thy duty.

Upon the earth's increase why fhouldft 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 thy felf art
dead:

And fo in fpight of death, thou doft furvive,
In that thy likeness ftill is left alive.

By this the love-fick queen began to fweat,
For where they lay, the fhadow had forfook them:
And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat,
With burning eye did hotly overlook them :
Withing Adonis had his team to guide,
So he were like him, and by Venus fide.

And now Adonis with a lazy fpright,
And with a heavy, dark, difliking eye.
His low ring brows o'erwhelming his fair fight,
Like mifty vapours, when they blot the sky;

Souring his cheeks, cries fie, no more of love,
The fun doth burn my face, I muit remove.

Ah me! (quoth Venus) young, and fo unkind!
What bare excufes mak'ft thou to be gone?
I'll figh celestial breath, whofe gentle wind
Shall cool the heat of this defcending fun.

I'll make a fhadow for thee of my hairs,
If they burn too, I'll quench them with my

tears.

The fun that fhines from heaven fhines but warm,

And, loe, I lie between the fun and thee!
The heat i have from thence doth little harm,
Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me.
And, were I not inmortal, life were done,
Between this heav'nly, and this earthly fun,

Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as fteel?.
Nay more than flint, for flone at rain relenteth:
Art thou a woman's fon, and canft not feel
What 'tis to love, how want of love tormenteth?
Oh had thy mother born fo bad a mind,
She had not brought forth thee, but died un-
kind.

What am
that thou fhouldft contemn me thus?
Or what great danger dwells upon my fuit?
What were thy lips the worfe for one poor kifs!
Speak fair: but fpeak fair words, or elie be mute.
Give me one kifs, I'll give it thee again,
And one for int'reit, if thou wilt have twain,

Fie, Liflefs picture, cold and fenfeless stone,
Well-painted idel, image dull and dead;
Statue contenting but the eye alone,
Thing like a man, but of no woman bred.

Thou art no man, though of a man's complection,

For men will kifs even by their own direction.

This faid, impatience choaks her pleading tongue,
And fwelling paffion doth provoke a paule;
Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wing,
Being judge in love, the cannot right her caufe.
And now fhe weeps, and now the fain would
fpeak,

And now her fobs do her intendments break.

Sometimes fhe fhakes her head, and then his hand:
Now gazeth fhe on him, now on the ground;
Sometimes her arms infold him like a band;
She would, he will not in her arms be bound;
And when from thence the ftruggles to be

gone,

She locks her lilly fingers one in one.

Fondling, faith fhe, fince I have hemm'd thee here,

Within the circuit of this ivory pale,
I'll be the park, and thou shalt be my deer,
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain, or in dale.

Graze on my lips; and if thofe hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleafant fountains lie.

Within this limit is relief enough,
Sweet bottom grafs, and high delightful plain,
Round rifing hillocks, brakes obfcure and rough,
To fhelter thee from tempeft and from rain.

Then be my deer, fince I am fuch a park,
No dog fhall rouze thee, though a thoufan!
bark.

At this Adonis fmiles, as in difdain,
That in each check appears a pretty dimple;
Love made thofe hollows, if himself were itain,
He might be buried in a tomb fo fimple:

Foreknowing well if there he came to lie, Why there Love liv'd, and there he could die.

Thefe loving caves, thefe round enchanted pits
Open'd their mouths to fwallow Venus lik.ng:
Being mad before, how doth the now for wits"
Struck dead at firft, what needs a fecond fri
Poor Queen of Love, in thine own law
To love a check, that smiles at thee in fcura.

Now which way fhall fhe turn? What shall & fay?

Her words are done, her woes the more a creafing :

The time is spent, her object will away,
And from her twining arms doth urgerdrag
Pity the cries, fome favour, fome remorte!
Away he fprings, and haileth to his horte.
But, lo! from forth a cepp's that nighhot ry br
A breeding jennet, lufty, young, ani proud,
Adonis' trampling courfer doth ei; 3,

And forth the ruthes, fierts, and neighs.Ed.
The ftrong-neck'd fteed, being ty'd ra

Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,
And now his woven girts he breaks afunder;
The bearing earth, with his hard hoof he wounds,
Whofe hollow womb refound's like heaven's
thunder:

The iron bit he crufhes 'tween his teeth,
Controlling what he was controlled with.

His cars up-prick'd, his braided hanging mane
Upon his compafs'd creft now ftands on end:
His noftrils drink the air, and forth again,
As from a furnace, vapours doth he send:

His eye, which glifters fcornfully like fire,
Shews his hot courage, and his high defire.

Sometimes he trots, as if he told the steps,
With gentle majefty, and modeft pride;
Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps,
As who fhould fay, lo! thus my ftrength is try'd:
And thus I do to captivate the eye

Of the fair breeder, that is standing by.

What recketh he his rider's angry stir,
His flatt'ring bolla, or bis ftand 1 fay?
What cares he now for curb, or pricking fpur?
For rich caparifon's, or trappings gay?

He fees his love, and nothing elfe he fees,
For nothing elfe with his proud fight agrees.

Look when a painter would furpass the life,
In limning out a well-proportion'd steed,
His art, with Nature's workmanship at ftrife,
As if the dead the living fhould exceed :

So did his horfe excel a common one
In fhape, in courage, colour, pace, and bone.

Round-hooft, fhort-jointed, fetlocks fhag and long, Broad breaft, full eyes, fmall head, and noftril wide,

High creft, fhort ears, ftrait legs, and paffing ftrong,

Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: Look what a horfe fhould have, he did not

Sometimes he fcuds far off, and there he ftares;
Anon he starts at ftirring of a feather.
To bid the wind abafe he now prepares,
And where he run, or fly, they knew not whither.
For through his mane and tail the high wind
fings,

Fanning the hairs, which heave like feather'd wings.

He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her;
She anfwers him, as if fhe knew his mind.
Being proud, as females are, to fee him woo her,
She puts on outward ftrangenefs, feems unkind,
Spurns at his love, and feerns the heat he feels,
Beating his kind embracements with her heels.

Then, like a melancholy male content,
He veils his tail; that like a falling plume

Cool fhadow to. his melting buttocks lent:
He ftamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume:
His love perceiving how he is enrag'd,
Grew kinder, and his fury was affwag'd.

His tefty mafter goes about to take him,
When lo! the unback'd breeder full of fear,
Jealous of catching, fwiftly doth forfake him,
With her the horfe, and left Adonis there.

As they were mad, unto the wood they hie
them,
Out-ftripping crows, that ftrive to over-fly
them.

All fwoln with chafing, down Adonis fits,
Banning his boift'rous and unruly beaft.
And now the happy feafon once more fits,
That love-fick love, by pleading may be blest.
For lovers fay, the heart hath treble wrong,
When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.

An oven that is ftop'd or river ftaid,
Burneth more hotly, fwelleth with more rage:
So of concealed forrow may be faid;
Free vent of words love's fire doth affwage:
But when the heart's attorney once is mute,
The client breaks, as defperate in his fuit.

He fees 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 difturbed mind;
Taking no notice, that he is fo nigh,
For all afcance he holds her in his eye.

O! what a fight it was wifly to view
How the came ftealing to the wayward boy;
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.

Now was the juft before him, as he fat,
And like a lowly lover down fhe kneels ;
With one fair hand the heaveth up his hat,
Her other tender hand his fair cheeks feels:
His tender cheeks, receive her foft hand's print,
As apt, as new-fallen fnow takes any dint.

Once more the engine of thoughts began,
O fairest mover on this mortal round!
Would thou wert as I am, and I a man,
My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound.
For one fweet look thy help I would affure
thee,

Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee.

Give me my hand (faith he) why dost thou feel it?

Give me my heart (faith fhe) and thou shalt have it.

O! give it me, left thy hard heart do fteel it; And being steel'd, folt fighs can never grave it : Then love's deep groans I never fhall regard, Because Adonis heart hath made mine hard.

For fhame, he cries, let go, and let me go,
My day's delight is paft, my horfe is gone,
And 'tis your fault I am bereft him fo:
pray you hence, and leave me here alone.
For all my mind, my thought, my bufy care,
Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.

Thus the replies: Thy palfrey, as he should,
Welcomes the warm approach of fweet defire
Affection is a coal, that must be cool'd;
Elfe fuffer'd, it will fet the heart on fire.

The fea hath bounds, but deep defire hath

none;

Therefore no marvel, though thy horfe be gone.

How like a jade he ftood, ty'd to a tree,
Servilely mattred with a leathern rein!
But when he faw his love, his youth's fair fee,
He held fuch petty bondage in difdain;
Throwing the bafe thong from his bending
creft,

Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast.
Who fees his true love in her naked bed,
Teaching the fheets a whiter hue than white,
But when his glutton eyes fo full hath fed,
His other agents aim at like delight?

Who is fo faint, that dare not be fo bold
To touch the fire, the weather being cold?

Let me excufe thy courfer, gentle boy,
And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee,
To take advantage on prefented joy ;
Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach
thee.

O! learn to love, the leffon is but plain,
And once made perfect, never loft again.

I know nat love (quoth he) nor will I know it,
Unless it be a boar, and then I chafe it;
'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it,
My love to love, is love but to disgrace it;
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 unfinifi'd?
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?
If fpringing things be any jet diminish'd,
They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth,
The colt that's back'd, and burden'd bang
young,

Lofeth his pride, and never waxeth strong.

You hurt my hand with wringing. Let us part, And leave this idle theme, this bootlefs chat; Remove your fiege from my unyielding heart, To love's alarm, it will not ope the gate.

Difmifs your vows, your feigned tears, your flatt'ry;

For where a heart is hard, they make no battery

What, can't thou talk? (quoth fhe) haft thos tongue?

O! would thou had'ft not, or I had no hearing! Thy mermaid's voice hath done me do wrong?

I had my load before, now prefs'd with bearing. Melodious difcord, heavenly tune harfh-lound ing!

Earth's deep fweet mufick! and heart's dep
fore-wounding!

Had I no eyes, but ears, my ears would love
That inward beauty, and invisible:
Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move
Each part in me, that were but fenfible.

Though neither eyes, nor ears, to hear, ant fee,

Yet fhould I be in love, by touching thee.

Say, that the fenfe of feeling were bereft me, And that I could not fee, nor hear, nor touch; And nothing but the very inell were left me, Yet would my love to thee be ftill as much:

For from the ftill'tory of thy face excelling Comes breath perfum'd, that breedeth love fmelling.

But oh! what banquet wert thou to the talle, Being nurfe and feeder of the other four! Would they not wish the feast should ever lat And bid fufpicion double-lock the deer?

Left Jealoufy, that four unwelcome guckt, Should by his tealing in, difturb the feat.

Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd, Which to his fpeech did honey paffage yield; Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd, Wreck to the feamen, tempeft to the field, Sorrow to fhepherds, woe unto the birds, Guft and foul flaws to herdmen, and to herds

This ill prefage advisedly the marketh,
Even as the wind is huth'd before it raineth,
Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh,
Or as the berry breaks before it ftaineth;
Or like the deadly bullet of a gun.
His meaning ftruck her, e'er his words begun.