The idylliums of Moschus and Bion Translated from the Greek. With annotations. To which is prefixed, An Account of their Lives; with some Remarks on their Works; and some Observations upon Pastoral. By Mr. Cooke |
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Idyllium I. Upon the Death of Adonis.
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 | The idylliums of Moschus and Bion |  |
73
Idyllium I. Upon the Death of Adonis.
I mourn
Adonis, fair Adonis gone;
The fair Adonis dead the Cupids moan.
Sleeping no more in purple Robes be seen,
But rise, and beat your Breasts fair Cyprian Queen;
Proclaim abroad the fair Adonis dead,
He's dead, and all that's lovely with him fled.
I mourn Adonis, fair Adonis gone;
The fair Adonis dead the Cupids moan.
Upon the Mountain lies the beauteous Youth,
Slain by an Iv'ry, but a Savage Tooth.
White was his Thigh, white as the falling Snow,
Nor whiter was the Tusk that gave the Blow.
Panting he lies, and near him Beauty's Queen,
Stands weeping by; a lovely mournful Scene!
Round his white Skin behold the Crimson flow;
His once bright Eyes languish beneath the Brow;
His Cheeks no more the bloomy Colour show:
The Ruby from his charming Lips is fled,
Them still she loves, altho' Adonis' dead;
But yet, alas, Adonis not perceives
The melting Kisses which fair Venus gives.
I mourn Adonis, fair Adonis gone;
The fair Adonis dead the Cupids moan.
Deep went the Tusk that caus'd the killing Smart,
But deeper far it went in Venus' Heart.
The yelling Hounds, around their Master, tell
What Grief for their departed Lord they feel.
The Nymphs bemoan; and with deshevel'd Hair,
Her Tresses loose thrown to the ruffling Air,
Doleful, barefooted, the fair Queen of Love
With sad Complaints fills ev'ry Wood and Grove;
Grief bears her thence thro' uncouth Ways, and Plains,
And still Adonis dead augments her Pains;
As thus she thro' Excess of Woe is led,
Her sacred Blood the cruel Brambles shed.
Mean while extended on the Turf he lies,
And purple Streams flow round his Iv'ry Thighs;
Whose Skin once whiter than the falling Snow,
Stain'd with the Crimson Blood, no longer's so.
The fair Adonis dead the Cupids moan.
Sleeping no more in purple Robes be seen,
But rise, and beat your Breasts fair Cyprian Queen;
Proclaim abroad the fair Adonis dead,
He's dead, and all that's lovely with him fled.
74
The fair Adonis dead the Cupids moan.
Upon the Mountain lies the beauteous Youth,
Slain by an Iv'ry, but a Savage Tooth.
White was his Thigh, white as the falling Snow,
Nor whiter was the Tusk that gave the Blow.
Panting he lies, and near him Beauty's Queen,
Stands weeping by; a lovely mournful Scene!
Round his white Skin behold the Crimson flow;
His once bright Eyes languish beneath the Brow;
His Cheeks no more the bloomy Colour show:
The Ruby from his charming Lips is fled,
Them still she loves, altho' Adonis' dead;
But yet, alas, Adonis not perceives
The melting Kisses which fair Venus gives.
I mourn Adonis, fair Adonis gone;
The fair Adonis dead the Cupids moan.
Deep went the Tusk that caus'd the killing Smart,
But deeper far it went in Venus' Heart.
75
What Grief for their departed Lord they feel.
The Nymphs bemoan; and with deshevel'd Hair,
Her Tresses loose thrown to the ruffling Air,
Doleful, barefooted, the fair Queen of Love
With sad Complaints fills ev'ry Wood and Grove;
Grief bears her thence thro' uncouth Ways, and Plains,
And still Adonis dead augments her Pains;
As thus she thro' Excess of Woe is led,
Her sacred Blood the cruel Brambles shed.
Mean while extended on the Turf he lies,
And purple Streams flow round his Iv'ry Thighs;
Whose Skin once whiter than the falling Snow,
Stain'd with the Crimson Blood, no longer's so.
Ah! Venus, Ah! the Cupids all bemoan,
With thee, the fair Adonis dead and gone.
Now the fair Youth, the beauteous Boy, is dead,
Each charming Grace is from fair Venus fled;
Whilst him the Fates preserv'd, and Life remain'd,
Ten thousand Charms fair Venus' Face contain'd;
But since the lovely Youth is dead and gone,
Her daz'ling Beauties from her Face are flow'n.
The Hills, the Groves, and sacred Oaks, complain,
For sweet Adonis on the Mountain slain;
The purling Streams in murm'ring Plaints bemoan,
With Venus, dear Adonis dead and gone.
Each Herb for Grief puts on a deeper Green;
The Goddess most of all forlorn is seen.
Each Grove, and Mountain, with her Grief abounds,
Adonis dead! she cries thro' ev'ry Town;
Adonis dead! sad Echo then resounds.
Who can behold the beauteous Goddess moan,
And not relenting lend a gentle Groan?
Soon as the Fair perceiv'd the grievous Wound,
That in her fair Adonis' Thigh was found;
Soon as the Queen the Crimson Stream survey'd,
With Hands expanded, she lamenting said.
With thee, the fair Adonis dead and gone.
Now the fair Youth, the beauteous Boy, is dead,
Each charming Grace is from fair Venus fled;
76
Ten thousand Charms fair Venus' Face contain'd;
But since the lovely Youth is dead and gone,
Her daz'ling Beauties from her Face are flow'n.
The Hills, the Groves, and sacred Oaks, complain,
For sweet Adonis on the Mountain slain;
The purling Streams in murm'ring Plaints bemoan,
With Venus, dear Adonis dead and gone.
Each Herb for Grief puts on a deeper Green;
The Goddess most of all forlorn is seen.
Each Grove, and Mountain, with her Grief abounds,
Adonis dead! she cries thro' ev'ry Town;
Adonis dead! sad Echo then resounds.
Who can behold the beauteous Goddess moan,
And not relenting lend a gentle Groan?
Soon as the Fair perceiv'd the grievous Wound,
That in her fair Adonis' Thigh was found;
Soon as the Queen the Crimson Stream survey'd,
With Hands expanded, she lamenting said.
77
Stay, my Adonis, stay, my charming Boy,
That I may take my last Farewel, my Joy!
Let us embrace before your Soul does fly,
And take this Kiss, this parting Kiss from me;
'Till Life is fled I'll join my Lips to thine,
And suck thy fleeting Soul, sweet Youth, to mine.
I your last Gasp will catch, and since you fly,
No one shall take this parting Kiss from me.
You to the silent Shades, where Spectres dwell,
Adonis go, to the grim King of Hell.
Ah! wretched I my beauteous Loss survive,
And must a Goddess thus for ever live?
Eternity affords no End to Woe,
Nor can I to my dear Adonis go.
Why was I born a Goddess, thus to live
A Life immortal, and for ever grieve?
Take, Proserpine, my Love, take the dear Boy,
Take him, relentless Goddess, him enjoy;
Your Pow'r is great, nothing on Earth can be,
Sooner, or later, but devolves to thee.
Unhappy I, Goddess 'tis you I fear,
'Tis you I envy for my lovely Dear.
Thou'rt dead, alas, thou'rt dead, my charming Boy,
Love, as a Dream, to me's a fleeting Joy;
Our Pleasure's pass'd, ne'er to return again;
Alone thou'st left thy Venus to complain.
The Cupids all have thrown their Arrows by,
Their Shafts, and Quivers, now neglected lye.
With thee the Cestus dy'd; I've Charms no more.
Why would you hunt rash Youth the foaming Boar?
That I may take my last Farewel, my Joy!
Let us embrace before your Soul does fly,
And take this Kiss, this parting Kiss from me;
'Till Life is fled I'll join my Lips to thine,
And suck thy fleeting Soul, sweet Youth, to mine.
I your last Gasp will catch, and since you fly,
No one shall take this parting Kiss from me.
You to the silent Shades, where Spectres dwell,
Adonis go, to the grim King of Hell.
Ah! wretched I my beauteous Loss survive,
And must a Goddess thus for ever live?
Eternity affords no End to Woe,
Nor can I to my dear Adonis go.
Why was I born a Goddess, thus to live
A Life immortal, and for ever grieve?
Take, Proserpine, my Love, take the dear Boy,
Take him, relentless Goddess, him enjoy;
78
Sooner, or later, but devolves to thee.
Unhappy I, Goddess 'tis you I fear,
'Tis you I envy for my lovely Dear.
Thou'rt dead, alas, thou'rt dead, my charming Boy,
Love, as a Dream, to me's a fleeting Joy;
Our Pleasure's pass'd, ne'er to return again;
Alone thou'st left thy Venus to complain.
The Cupids all have thrown their Arrows by,
Their Shafts, and Quivers, now neglected lye.
With thee the Cestus dy'd; I've Charms no more.
Why would you hunt rash Youth the foaming Boar?
So Venus griev'd; the Loves with her deplore
The charming sweet Adonis, now no more.
Venus, alas, dead is the lovely Boy;
Nought now remains but Thought of former Joy.
As many Tears the beauteous Goddess shed,
As Drops of Blood the fair Adonis bled;
From both the Tears, and Blood, new Flow'rs arise,
Roses from this, from those Anemonies.
I mourn Adonis, fair Adonis gone;
The fair Adonis dead the Cupids moan.
Cease your Complaints, and dry your Tears, fair Queen;
In Woods, and Groves, weeping no more be seen.
No longer mourn for lov'd Adonis slain;
Tho' dead, some Beauties in his Face remain;
Take him and lay him on the Bed of State,
Conscious of all those Joys you had of late;
Garlands and Flow'rs upon his Body strow;
Their Grief with drooping Heads the Lillies show.
With precious Ointments bathe his Body o'er,
Upon his comely Limbs sweet Odours pour;
Odours, and Ointments, now are worthless grow'n,
Since sweet Adonis, her Delight is gone.
The charming sweet Adonis, now no more.
Venus, alas, dead is the lovely Boy;
Nought now remains but Thought of former Joy.
As many Tears the beauteous Goddess shed,
As Drops of Blood the fair Adonis bled;
79
Roses from this, from those Anemonies.
I mourn Adonis, fair Adonis gone;
The fair Adonis dead the Cupids moan.
Cease your Complaints, and dry your Tears, fair Queen;
In Woods, and Groves, weeping no more be seen.
No longer mourn for lov'd Adonis slain;
Tho' dead, some Beauties in his Face remain;
Take him and lay him on the Bed of State,
Conscious of all those Joys you had of late;
Garlands and Flow'rs upon his Body strow;
Their Grief with drooping Heads the Lillies show.
With precious Ointments bathe his Body o'er,
Upon his comely Limbs sweet Odours pour;
Odours, and Ointments, now are worthless grow'n,
Since sweet Adonis, her Delight is gone.
Upon the Bed of State Adonis lies,
And mournful Cupids him surround with Cries;
Their Grief by different Ways the Cupids show;
One clips his Hair, another breaks his Bow;
This pulls the bloody Sandals from his Feet;
Others fresh Water from the Fountain get;
Some bathe his Wound with Water from the Springs
That fans his Body with refreshing Wings.
Thus the kind Loves the sacred Loss bemoan,
The charming sweet Adonis dead and gone.
And Hymen too does the fair Loss deplore;
His nuptial Songs are ceas'd, and heard no more;
To this converted; Ah! Adonis dead!
He's dead, and all that's charming with him fled.
His nuptial Lights to Fun'ral Tapers turn;
And all his wither'd Marriage-Garlands burn.
The Graces too Cinyrades deplore,
Crying among themselves he's now no more;
Sadly they weep, as if they fain would know,
Whether fair Dion can weep more, or no.
The fatal Three with Cytherea grieve,
And try with Songs Adonis to retrieve;
But all in vain, Songs no Effect can have,
To bring the fair Adonis from the Grave.
Cease, Cytherea, cease, from Tears refrain;
When next Year comes, Venus must weep again.
And mournful Cupids him surround with Cries;
80
One clips his Hair, another breaks his Bow;
This pulls the bloody Sandals from his Feet;
Others fresh Water from the Fountain get;
Some bathe his Wound with Water from the Springs
That fans his Body with refreshing Wings.
Thus the kind Loves the sacred Loss bemoan,
The charming sweet Adonis dead and gone.
And Hymen too does the fair Loss deplore;
His nuptial Songs are ceas'd, and heard no more;
To this converted; Ah! Adonis dead!
He's dead, and all that's charming with him fled.
His nuptial Lights to Fun'ral Tapers turn;
And all his wither'd Marriage-Garlands burn.
The Graces too Cinyrades deplore,
Crying among themselves he's now no more;
Sadly they weep, as if they fain would know,
Whether fair Dion can weep more, or no.
The fatal Three with Cytherea grieve,
And try with Songs Adonis to retrieve;
81
To bring the fair Adonis from the Grave.
Cease, Cytherea, cease, from Tears refrain;
When next Year comes, Venus must weep again.
| The idylliums of Moschus and Bion | |