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The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light; 1028

And in her haste unfortunately spies

The foul boar's conquest on her fair delight;

Which seen, her eyes, as murder'd with the view,

Like stars asham'd of day, themselves withdrew:

Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit,1033

Shrinks backwards in his shelly cave with pain,

And there, all smother'd up, in shade doth sit,

Long after fearing to creep forth again;1036

So, at his bloody view, her eyes are fled

Into the deep dark cabills of her head;

Where they resign their office and their light

To the disposing of her troubled brain; 1040

Who bids them still consort with ugly night,

And never wound the heart with looks again;

Who, like a king perplexed in his throne,

By their suggestion gives a deadly groan, 1044

Whereat each tributary subject quakes;

As when the wind, imprison'd in the ground,

Struggling for passage, earth's foundation shakes,

Which with cold terror doth men's minds confound.

This mutiny each part doth so surprise1049

That from their dark beds once more leap her eyes;

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 1053

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.

This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth, 1057

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, 1069

And yet,' quoth she, 'behold two Adons dead!

My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone,

Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead:1072

Heavy heart's lead, melt at mine eyes' red fire!

So shall I die by drops of hot desire.

'Alas! poor world, what treasure hast thou lost!

What face remains alive that's worth the viewing?

Whose tongue is music now? what canst thou boast

Of things long since, or anything ensuing? 1078

The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim;

But true-sweet beauty liv'd and died with him.

'Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear! 1081

Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you:

Having no fair to lose, you need not fear;

The sun doth scorn you, and the wind doth hiss you:

But when Adonis liv'd, sun and sharp air 1085

Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of his fair:

'And therefore would he put his bonnet on,

Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep; 1088

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 his tears.

'To see his face the lion walk'd along 1093

Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him;

To recreate himself when he hath sung,

The tiger would be tame and gently hear him; 1096

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,

The fishes spread on it their golden gills; 1100

When he was by, the birds such pleasure took,

That some would sing, some other in their bills

Would bring him mulberries and ripe-red cherries

He fed them with his sight, they him with berries.

'But this foul, grim, and urchin-spouted boar,1105

Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave,

Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore;

Witness the entertainment that he gave: 1108

If he did see his face, why then I know

He thought to kiss him, and hath killed him so.

''Tis true, 'tis true; thus was Adonis slain:

He ran upon