The poems and translations of Sir Edward Sherburne (1616-1702) excluding Seneca and Manilius Introduced and Annotated by F. J. Van Beeck |
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The Hymn.
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 | The poems and translations of Sir Edward Sherburne (1616-1702) |  |
The Hymn.
Thou
who in Golgos, and Idalia tak'st
Delight, with lofty Erix; who gold mak'st
Thy joy: sweet Venus! see the soft pace't hours
Thy dear Adonis from th'Infernal powers
Have brought again at the years end to thee!
Though slowest of the Deities they be,
Yet they come wish'd for, and with something fraught
Alwaies to all. Thou whom Dione brought
To light, fair Cypris! Berenice's said,
Mortal, by thee to be Immortall made,
And fed with sweet Ambrosia: wherefore now,
Her daughter (to make good her grateful vow
To thee) her Daughter (who for form may be
A second Helin) fair Arsinoe,
To thy Adonis choisest gifts assigns;
O thou, that gloriest in thy numerous shrines!
The several fruits which laden Top-boughs yeild
Beside him lie: here flowers of every field
In Silver Baskets: there Gold Boxes stand
Full of Assyrian unguents: on his hand,
All sorts of rare Confections; and with those,
What e're of Oyl or Hony we compose.
All Fowls, all beasts for food: green Arbours drest
With soft Dil branches, where Loves make their nest:
And like young Nightingales that have but now
New try'd their wings, flutter from bough to bough.
O the golds splendour! the pure Ivories too!
The Eagle with Joves Cup-bearer that flew!
And Purple Carpets then sleep softer! may
The wondring Samian, and Milesian say.
Delight, with lofty Erix; who gold mak'st
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Thy dear Adonis from th'Infernal powers
Have brought again at the years end to thee!
Though slowest of the Deities they be,
Yet they come wish'd for, and with something fraught
Alwaies to all. Thou whom Dione brought
To light, fair Cypris! Berenice's said,
Mortal, by thee to be Immortall made,
And fed with sweet Ambrosia: wherefore now,
Her daughter (to make good her grateful vow
To thee) her Daughter (who for form may be
A second Helin) fair Arsinoe,
To thy Adonis choisest gifts assigns;
O thou, that gloriest in thy numerous shrines!
The several fruits which laden Top-boughs yeild
Beside him lie: here flowers of every field
In Silver Baskets: there Gold Boxes stand
Full of Assyrian unguents: on his hand,
All sorts of rare Confections; and with those,
What e're of Oyl or Hony we compose.
All Fowls, all beasts for food: green Arbours drest
With soft Dil branches, where Loves make their nest:
And like young Nightingales that have but now
New try'd their wings, flutter from bough to bough.
O the golds splendour! the pure Ivories too!
The Eagle with Joves Cup-bearer that flew!
And Purple Carpets then sleep softer! may
The wondring Samian, and Milesian say.
Here on a rich Bed doth Adonis lie;
And lovely Venus on another by.
Soft are his kisses, and his lips still red;
Venus, now joy in his regained Bed.
For we to morrow, e're the dew's exhal'd,
With hairs unbound, loose garments, brests unveild,
Him to the foaming waves that wash the shore,
Shall bear from hence, and with sad songs deplore.
The way from Hell (Adonis) unto thee
Is ever open, though to none else free
Of all the glorious Heroes (as they tell)
This ne'r t'Atrides, Ajax ne're befel.
Not Hector, chief of Hecub's numerous Race,
Patroclus, Pyrrhus, those of elder daies,
The Lapithites, Deucalions issue; nor
The Sons of Pelops, (Princes fam'd in War)
Nor Argive Kings could er'e to this attain.
Be now appeas'd: and the next year again
Bring gladness with thee: still propitious prove,
And as thou cam'st, return to us in love.
Gorgo.
And lovely Venus on another by.
Soft are his kisses, and his lips still red;
Venus, now joy in his regained Bed.
For we to morrow, e're the dew's exhal'd,
With hairs unbound, loose garments, brests unveild,
Him to the foaming waves that wash the shore,
Shall bear from hence, and with sad songs deplore.
The way from Hell (Adonis) unto thee
Is ever open, though to none else free
Of all the glorious Heroes (as they tell)
This ne'r t'Atrides, Ajax ne're befel.
Not Hector, chief of Hecub's numerous Race,
Patroclus, Pyrrhus, those of elder daies,
The Lapithites, Deucalions issue; nor
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Nor Argive Kings could er'e to this attain.
Be now appeas'd: and the next year again
Bring gladness with thee: still propitious prove,
And as thou cam'st, return to us in love.
O deer! what a rare woman's this? what choice
Of knowledge hath she? and how sweet a voice?
But go:—My husband's fasting still, and then
He eats his own Gall: Fear a hungry man.
Fare-well Adonis for this time; and when
The year's done, come, and make us glad agen.
| The poems and translations of Sir Edward Sherburne (1616-1702) | |