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But hatefully at random dost thou hit. 940

Thy mark is feeble age, but thy false dart

Mistakes that aim and cleaves an infant's heart.

'Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke,

And, hearing him, thy power had lost his power.944

The Destinies will curse thee for this stroke;

They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck'st a flower.

Love's golden arrow at him shoull have fled,

And not Death's ebon dart, to strike him dead.948

'Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok'st such weeping?

What may a heavy groan advantage thee?

Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping

Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see? 952

Now Nature cares not for thy mortal vigour

Since her best work is ruin'd with thy rigour.'

Here overcome, as one full of despair,

She vail'd her eyelids, who, like sluices, stopp'd 956

The crystal tide that from her two cheeks fair

In the sweet channel of her bosom dropp'd

But through the flood-gates breaks the silver rain,

And with his strong course opens them again. 960

O! how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow;

Her eyes seen in the tears, tears in her eye;

Both crystals, where they view'd each other's sorrow,

Sorrow that friendly sighs sought still to dry;964

But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain,

Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again.

Variable passions throng her constant woe,

As striving who should best become her grief; 968

All entertain'd, each passion labours so,

That every present sorrow seemeth chief,

But none is best; then join they all together,

Like many clouds consulting for foul weather. 972

By this, far off she hears some huntsman holloa;

A nurse's song no'er pleas'd her babe so well:

The dire imagination she did follow

This sound of hope doth labour to expel; 976

For now reviving joy bids her rejoice,

And flatters her it is Adonis' voice.

Whereat her tears began to turn their tide,

Being prison'd in her eye, like pearls in glass;980

Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside,

Which her cheek melts, as scorning it should pass

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 985

Not to believe, and yet too credulous;

Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes;

Despair and hope make thee ridiculous: 988

The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely,

In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly.

Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought,

Adonis lives, and Death is not to blame; 992

It was not she that call'd him all to naught,

Now she adds honours to his hateful name;

She clepes him king of graves, and grave for kings,

Imperious supreme of all mortal things.996

'No, no,' quoth she, 'sweet Death, I did but jest;

Yet pardon me, I felt a kind of fear

Whenas I met the boar, that bloody beast,

Which knows no pity, but is still severe;1000

Then, gentle shadow,—truth I must confess—

I rail'd on thee, fearing my love's decease.

'Tis not my fault: the boar provok'd my tongue;

Be wreak'd on him, invisible commander; 1004

'Tis he, foul creature, that hath done thee wrong;

I did but act, he 's author of my slander:

Grief hath two tongues: and never woman yet,

Could rule them both without ten women's wit.'

Thus hoping that Adonis is alive, 1009

Her rash suspect sile doth extenuate;

And that his beauty may the better thrive,

With Death she humbly doth insinuate; 1012

Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs; and stories

His victories, his triumphs, and his glories.

'O Jove!' quoth she, 'how much a fool was I,

To be of such a weak and silly mind1016

To wail his death who lives and must not die

Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind;

For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,

And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again. 1020

'Fie, fie, fond love! thou art so full of fear

As one with treasure laden, hemm'd with thieves

Trifles, unwitnessed with eye or ear,

Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.' 1024

Even at this word she hears a merry horn

Whereat she leaps that was but late forlorn.