« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
VENUS AND ADONIS.
25 This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear,
“ Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok’st suche Through which it enters to surprise her heart,
With cold pale weakness numbs each feeling part: Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping
Since her best work is ruin'd with thy rigour."
Till, cheering up her senses sore-dismay'd, Here overcome, as one full of despair,
She veil'd her eye-lids, who, like sluices, stopp'd
And with his strong course opens them again.
Like milk and blood being mingled both together, O how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow!
Which madly hurries her she knows not whither; Both crystals where they view'd each other's sorrow, This way she runs, and now she will no further, Sorrow, that friendly sighs sought still to dry; But back retires, to rate the boar for murder. But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain,
Sigbs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again,
Sbe treads the paths that she untreads again; Variable passions throng her constant woe,
As striving which should best become her grief;
Like many clouds cousulting for foul weather.
And asks the weary caitiff for his master; By this, far off she bears some huntsman bolla ;
A nurse's song ne'er pleas'd her babe so well:
This sound of hope doth labour to expell;
And flatters her, it is Adonis' voice.
Another flap-mouth'd mourner, black and grim, Whereat her tears began to turn their tide,
Being prison'd in her eye, like pearls in glass;
Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside,
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
Infusing them with dreadful prophecies; Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes,
The one doth fatter thee in thoughts unlikely,
With likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly.
Hateful divorce of love," thus chides she Death; Now she unweaves the web that she had wrought;
It was not she that call'd him all to nanght;
Now she adds honour to his hateful name;
Imperial supreme of ali mortal things.
“ No, no," quoth she, “sweet Death, I did but jest ;
Which knows no pity, but is still severe;
“ 'Tis not my fault: the boar provok'd my tongue ;
They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck'st a flower. I did but act, he 's author of thy slander;
Thus hoping that Adonis is alive,
My tongue cannot express my grief for one, Her rash suspect she doth extenuate;
And yet," quoth she, “ behold two Adons dead! And that his beauty may the better thrise, My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone, With Death she humbly duth insinuate;
Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead : Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs; and stories Heavy heart's lead melt at mine eyes, as fire ! His yictories, his triumphs, and his glories. So shall I die by drops of hot desire. “ O Jove," quoth she, “ how much a fool was I, “ Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost! To be of such a weak and silly mind,
What face remains alive that's worth the viewing? To wail his death, who lives, ard must not die, Whose tongue is music now? what canst thou boast Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind !
Of things long since, or any thing ensuing? For he being dead, with him is beauty slain, The fowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim; And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again. But true-sweet beauty liv'd and dy'd in him. “ Fie, fie, fond Love, thou art so full of fear, “ Bonnet or veil henceforth no creature wear!
As one with treasure laden, hemm'd with thieves; Nor Sun por wind will ever strive to kiss you: Trifes, unwitnessed with eye or ear,
Having no fair to lose, you need not fear; Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.” The Sun doth scorn you,and the wind doth hiss you. Even at this word she hears a merry horn, But when Adonis liv'd, Sun and sharp air Whereat she leaps, that was but late forlorn. Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of bis fair; As faulcon to the lure, away she fies;
“ And therefore would be put his bonnet on, The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light ; Under whose brim the gawdy Sun would peep; And in her haste unfortunately spies
The wind would blow it off, and, being gone, The foul boar's conquest on her fair delight; Play with bis locks; then would Adonis weep: Which seen, her eyes, as murder'd with the view, And straight, in pity of his tender years, Like stars asham'd of day, themselves withdrew. They both would strive who first should dry his tears. Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit, “ To see his face, the lion walk'd along
Shrinks backward in his shelly cave with pain, Behind some hedge, because he would not fear And there, all smother'd up, in shade doth sit,
him ; Long after fearing to creep forth again; To recreate himself, when he hath sung, So, at his bloody view, her eyes are fled
The tiger would be tame, and gently hear him: Into the deep dark cabins of her head,
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, Who bids them still consort with ugly night,
The fishes spread on it their golden gills; And never wound the heart with looks again; When he was by, the birds such pleasure took, Who, like a king perplexed in his throne,
That some would sing, some other in their bills By their suggestion gives a deadly groan. Would bring him mulberries, and ripe red cherries;
He fed them with his sight, they him with berries. Whereat each tributary subject quakes ;
As when the wind, imprison'd in the ground, “ But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar, Struggling for passage, Earth's foundation shakes, Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave,
Which with cold terrours doth men's mind con- Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore; This mutiny each part doth so surprise, [found : Witness the entertainment that he gave; That from their dark beds, once more, leap hereyes; If he did see his face, why theo I know,
He thought to kiss him, and hath kill'd him so. And, being open'd, threw unwilling sight
Upon the wide wound that the boar had trench'd “ 'T is true, 't is true; thus was Adonis slain ; In his soft flank; whose wonted lily white
He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear, With purple tears, that his wound wept, was Who would not whet his teeth at him again, drench'd :
But by a kiss thought to persuade him there; No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf, or weed, And ouzzling in his fiank, the loving swine But stole his blood, and seem'd with him to bleed. Sheath'd, unaware, his tusk in his soft groin. This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth ; “ Had I been tooth'd like him, I must confess
Over one shoulder doth she hang her head; With kissing him I should have kill'd him first; Dumbly she passions, franticly she doteth ; But he is dead, and never did he bless
She thinks he could not die, he is not dead. My youth with his; the more I am accurs'd." Her voice is stopp’d, her joints forget to bow; With this she falleth in the place she stood, Her eyes are mad that they have wept till pow. And stains her face with his congealed blood. Upon his hurt she looks so stedfastly, [three; She looks upon his lips, and they are pale;
That her sight dazzling makes the wound scem She takes him by the hand, and that is cold; And then she reprehends ber mangling eye, [be: She whispers in his ear a heavy tale,
That makes more gashes where po breach should As if he heard the woeful words she told : His face seems twain, each several limb is doubled; She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes, For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled. Where lo! two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies:
Two glasses, where herself herself beheld
Thus, weary of the world, away she hies, A thousand times, and now no more reflect; And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid Their virtue lost, wherein they late excellid, Their mistress mounted, through the empty skies And every beauty robb’d of his effect :
In her light chariot quickly is convey'd, " Wonder of time,' quoth she, “this is my spite, Holding their course to Papbos, where their queen That, you being dead, the day should yet be light. Means to immure herself, and not be seen. * Since thou art dead, lo! here I prophesy,
Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend ; It shall be waited on with jealousy,
Find sweet beginning, but upsavoury end; Ne'er settled equally, too high or low;
RAPE OF LUCRECE. That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe. * It shall be fickle, false, and full of fraud,
And shall be blasted in a breathing-while ;
With sweets, that shall the sharpest sight beguile: RIGHT HON. HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
The love I dedicate to your lordship is without
end; whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with trea- is but a superfluons moiety. The warrant I have It shall be raging-mad, and silly-mild,
of your honourable disposition, not the worth of Make the young old, the old become a child.
my untutored lines, makes it assured of accept“ It shall suspect, where is no cause of fear;
What I have done is yours, what I have It shall not fear, where it should most mistrust; to do is yours ; being part in all I bave devoted It shall be merciful, and too severe,
yours. Were my worth greater, my duty would And most deceiving, when it seems most just; Perverse it shall be, when it seems most toward,
show greater: mean time, as it is, it is bound to Put fear to valour, courage to the coward. your lordship, to whom I wish long life, still
lengthened with all happiness. " It shall be cause of war, and dire events, And set dissention 'twixt the son and fire ;
Your lordship's in all duty, Sabject and servile to all discontents,
WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. 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.”
THE ARGUMENT. By this, the boy that by her side lay kill'd,
Was melted like a vapour from her sight, Lucius Tarquinius (for his excessive pride surAnd in his blood that on the ground lay spill'd, named Superbus) after he had caused his own
A purple flower sprung up, chequer'd with white; father-in-law, Servius Tullius, to be cruelly murResembling well his pale cheeks, and the blood dered, and, contrary to the Roman laws and Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood. customs, not requiring or staying for the peo
ple's suffrages, had possessed himself of the She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell, kingdom ; went, accompanied with his sons and Comparing it to her Adonis' breath;
other noblemen of Rome, to besiege Ardea. And says, within her bosom it shall dwell,
During which siege, the principal men of the Since he himself is reft from her by death : army meeting one evening at the tent of Sextus She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears Tarquinius, the king's son, in their discourses Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears. after supper every one commended the virtues
of his own wife ; among whom, Collatinus ex“ Poor flower," quoth she, “ this was thy father's tolled the incomparable chastity of his wife Luguise,
cretia. In that pleasant bumour they all posted (Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire) to Roine; and intending, by their secret and For every little grief to wet bis eyes :
sudden arrival, to make trial of that which every To grow unto himself was bis desire,
one had before avouched, only Collatinus finds And so 't is thine; but know, it is as good
his wife (thongh it were late in the night) spinTo wither in my breast, as in bis blood.
ving amongst her maids: the other ladies were
all found dancing and revelling, or in several " Here was thy father's bed, bere in my breast ; disports. Whereupon the noblemen yielded
Thou art the next of blood, and 't is thy right : Collatinus the victory, and his wife the fame. lo! in this bollow cradle take thy rest,
At that time Sextus Tarquinius being inflamed Mythrobbing heart shall rock thee day and night: with Lucrece's beauty, yet smothering his pasThere shall not be one minute of an hour,
sions for the present, departed with the rest back Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower." to the camp; from whence he shortly after pri
vily withdrew himself, and was (according to Perchance his boast of Lucrece sorereignty
But beauty, in that white intituled,
Their silver cheeks, and call'd it then their shield;
"Teaching them thus to use it in the fight,
When shame assail'd, the red should fence the white. From the besieged Ardea all in post, Borne by the trustless wings of false desire, This heraldry in Lucrece' face was seen, Lust-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman host, Argued by beauty's red, and virtue's white. And to Collatium bears the lightless fire
Of either's colour was the other queen,
That oft they interchange each other's seat.
This silent war of lilies and of roses
Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field, To praise the clear unmatched red and white In their pure ranks his traitor ege encloses; Which triumph'd in that sky of his delight,
Where, lest between them both it should be kill'd, Where mortal stars, as bright as Heaven's beauties, The coward captive vanquished doth yield With pure aspects did him peculiar duties. To those two armies that would let him go,
Rather than triumph in so false a foe. For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent,
Now thinks he that her husband's shallow tongue Unlock'd the treasure of his happy state ; What priceless wealth the Heavens had him lent
(The niggard prodigal that prais'd her so)
In that high task hath doue her beauty wrong, In the possession of his beauteous mate;
Which far exceeds his barren skill to show:
Therefore that praise which Collatine doth ove,
Enchanted Tarquin answers with surmise, But king nor peer to such a peerless dame.
In silent wonder of still-gazing eyes. O happiness enjoy'd but of a few !
This earthly saint, adored by this devil, And, if possess'd, as soon decay'd and done
Little suspecteth the false worshipper; As is the morning's silver-melting dew
For thoughts unstain'd do seldom dream on evil; Against the golden splendour of the Sun !
Birds never limb'd no secret bushes fear: An expir'd date, cancel'd ere well begun :
So guiltless shc securely gives good cheer Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms,
And reverend welcome to her princely guest, Are weakly fortress'd from a world of harms. Whose inward ill no outward harm express'd: Beauty itself doth of itself persuade
For that he colour'd with his high estate, The eyes of men without an orator;
Hiding base sin in plaits of majesty; What needeth then apology be made
That nothing in him seem'd inordinate, To set forth that which is so singular?
Save sometime too much wonder of his eye, Or why is Collatine the publisher
Which, having all, all could not satisfy ; Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown But, poorly rich, so wanteth in his store, From thjevish ears, because it is his own?
That, cloy'd with much, he pineth still for more.
THE RAPE OF LUCRECE.
29 at she that never cop'd with stranger eyes, Now stole upon the time the dead of night, ould pick no meaning from their parling looks, When heavy sleep had clos’d up mortal eyes; for read the subtle-shining secresies
No comfortable star did lend his light, prit in the glassy margents of such books ; No noise but owls' and wolves' death-boding cries : he touchd no unknown bajts, nor fear'd no hooks; Now serves the season that they may surprise for could sbe moralize his wanton sight,
The silly lambs; pare thoughts are dead and still, lore than his eyes were opend to the light. While lust and murder wake to stain and kill. le stories to her ears her husband's fame, And now this lustful lord leap'd from his bed, Vou in the fields of fruitful Italy ;
Throwing his mantle rudely o'er his arm; ind decks with praises Collatine's high name, Is madly toss'd between desire and dread; lade glorious by bis manly chivalry,
The one sweetly flatters, the other feareth harm; Vich bruised arms and wreaths of victory : But honest fear, bewitch'd with lust's foul charm, ler joy with heav'd-up hand she doth express, Doth too too oft betake him to retire, Ind, Fordless, so greets Heaven for his success. Beaten away by brain-sick rude desire. ?ar from the purpose of his coming thither, His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth, He makes excuses for his being there.
That from the cold stone sparks of fire do Ay, No cloudy show of stormy blustering weather Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth, Duth yet in bis fair welkin once appear;
Which must be lode-star to his lustful eye; Dll sable Night, mother of dread and fear, And to the fame thus speaks advisedly : Upon the world dim darkness doth display, " As from this cold Aint I enforc'd this fire, And in her vaulty prison stows the day.
So Lucrece must I force to my desire.” For tben is Tarquin brought unto his bed, Here, pale with fear, he doth premeditate Intending weariness with heavy spright;
The dangers of his loathsome enterprise, For, after sapper, long be questioned
And in his inward mind he doth debate With morlest Lucrece, and wore out the night: What following sorrow may on this arise: Now leaden slumber with life's strength doth fight; Then looking scornfully, he doth despise And every one to rest himself betakes, (wakes. His naked armour of still-slaughter'd lust, Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds that And justly thus controls his thoughts unjust. As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving “ Fair torch, burn out thy light, and lend it not The sundry dangers of his will's obtaining ; To darken her whose light excelleth thine! Yet ever to obtain his will resolving,
And die, anhallow'd thoughts, before you blot
True valour still a true respect should have;
Then my digression is so vile, so base,
Yea, though I die, the scandal will survive,
To cipher me, how fondly I did dote;
That my posterity, sham'd with the note,
To wish that I their father had not been.
" What win I, if I gain the thing I seek?
Who buys a minute's mirth, to wail a week?
Or sells eternity, to get a toy?
For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy?
Will he not wake, and in a desperate rage