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Where they resign their office and their light
Who, like a king perplexe d 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, Which with cold terrors doth men's mind confound :
This mutiny each part doth so surprise,
That from their dark beds, once more, leap her eyes; And, being open'd, threw unwilling sight Upon the wide wound that the boar bad trench'd In his soft flank; whose wonted lily white With purple tears, that his wound wept, was drench’d:
No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf, or weed,
But stole his blood, and seem'd with him to bleed.
Her voice is stopp'd, her joints forget to bow;
Her eyes are mad that they have wept till now. Upon bis 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 ost the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.
Heavy heart's lead melt at mine eyes, as fire!
So shall I die by drops of hot desire. Alas, poor world, what treasure bast thou lost! What face remains alive that's worth the viewing! Whose tongue is musick now? what canst thou boast Of things long since, or any thing ensuing ?
The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim; But true-sweet beauty liv'd and dy'd in him.
Bonnet or veil henceforth no creature wear!
But when Adonis liv’d, sun and sharp air
Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of his fair; And therefore would he put bis bonnet on, Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep; The wind would blow it off, and, being gone, Play with his locks; then would Adonis weep:
And straight, in pity of his tender years,
They both would strive who first should dry bis tears. To see his face, the lion walk'd along Behind some hedge, because he would not fear bim; To recreate himself, wben he bath sung, The tiger would be tame, and gently bear him:
If he had spoke, the wolf would leave bis prey,
And never fright the silly lamb that day.
Would bring him mulberries, and ripe red cherries;
He fed them with his sight, they him with berries. But this foul, grim, and urchin-snouted boar, Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave, Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore; Witness the entertainment that he gave;
If he did see his face, why then I know,
He thought to kiss him, and hath killd him so.
And nozzling in his flank, the loving swine
Sheathi’d, unaware, his task in his soft groin.
With this she falletb in the place sbe stood,
She looks upon his lips, and they are pale;
She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes,
Where lo! two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies: Two glasses, where herself herself beheld A thousand times, and now no more reflect; Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell’d, And every beauty robb’d of his effect:
Wonder of time, quoth she, this is my spite,
That, you being dead, the day should yet be light. Since thou art dead, lo! bere I prophesy, Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend; It shall be waited on with jealousy, Find sweet beginning, but uosavoury end;
Ne'er settled equally, to high or low;
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; The bottom poison, and the top o'erstraw'd With sweets, that sball the sharpest 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 treasures:
It shall be raging-mad, and silly-mild,
Make the young old, the old become a child.
Perverse it shall be, when it seems most toward,
Put fear to valour, courage to the coward.
By this, the boy that by her side lay kill'd,
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; And says, 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 guise, (Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire) For every little grief to wet his eyes : To grow unto bimself 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, bere in my breast; Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right: Lo! in this bollow cradle take thy rest, My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night:
There shall not be one minute of an hour,
Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower.
Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen