Page 2252 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Even so she languisheth in her mishaps,
As those poor birds that helpless berries saw.
The warm effects which she in him finds missing [605]
She seeks to kindle with continual kissing.

But all in vain; good queen, it will not be.

She hath assay’d as much as may be prov’d:
Her pleading hath deserv’d a greater fee;
She’s love, she loves, and yet she is not lov’d. [610]

«Fie, fie», he says, «you crush me; let me go,
You have no reason to withhold me so».

«Thou hadst been gone», quoth she, «sweet boy, ere this,
But that thou told’st me, thou wouldst hunt the boar.
Oh be advis’d, thou know’st not what it is, [615]

With javelin’s point a churlish swine to gore,
Whose tushes never sheath’d he whetteth still,
Like to a mortal butcher, bent to kill.

«On his bow-back he hath a battle set
Of bristly pikes that ever threat his foes; [620]

His eyes like glow-worms shine when he doth fret,
His snout digs sepulchres where’er he goes;
Being mov’d, he strikes whate’er is in his way,
And whom he strikes his crooked tushes slay.

«His brawny sides with hairy bristles armed [625]

Are better proof than thy spear’s point can enter;
His short thick neck cannot be easily harmed;
Being ireful, on the lion he will venture.
The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,

As fearful of him, part; through whom he rushes. [630]

«Alas, he naught esteems that face of thine,
To which love’s eyes pays tributary gazes;
Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips and crystal eyne,
Whose full perfection all the world amazes: