Page 2266 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

And being open’d threw unwilling light
Upon the wide wound that the boar had 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, [1055]
But stole his blood and seem’d with him to bleed.

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 till now.

Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly

That her sight dazzling makes the wound seem three;
And then she reprehends her mangling eye, [1065]
That makes more gashes, where no breach should be.
His face seems twain, each several limb is doubled,
For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.

«My tongue cannot express my grief for one,
And yet», quoth she, «behold two Adons dead! [1070]
My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone;
Mine eyes are turn’d to fire, my heart to lead.

Heavy heart’s lead melt at mine eyes’ red fire!
So I shall die by drops of hot desire.

«Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost! [1075]
What face remains alive that’s worth the viewing?
What tongue is music 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 died with him. [1080]

«Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear:
Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you.