University of Virginia Library

‘Perisht Adonis!’ my full sorrows sigh!
Perisht!’ the Loves—the weeping Loves reply!
[illeg.] hapless Queen, thy purple robes forego—
Leave thy gay couch, and snatch the weeds of woe!
Beat—beat thy breast, and tell: ‘Tho’ fair he shone,
‘Alas, Adonis, tho' so fair, is gone!

‘Perisht Adonis!’ my full sorrows sigh!
‘Perisht!’ the Loves—the weeping Loves reply!
I see his thigh in weltering horror bare,
The wound all open to the mountain-air.
He breathes! Yet, yet his eyes a pale mist dims,
As the black crimson stains his snowy limbs:
Lo! from his lips the rosy colour flies,
And ev'n thy soothing kiss, O Venus, dies!
That kiss (I view thy anguisht image near)
That last fond kiss, to thee so doubly-dear!
But the vain ardours of thy love give o'er—
Cold—cold he lies, and feels thy breath no more.

‘Perisht Adonis!’ my full sorrows sigh!
‘Perisht!’ the Loves—the weeping Loves reply!
[illeg.] in the chace his dogs stand howling round,
And the pale Oreads mourn the fatal wound.
The Cyprian Queen abandon'd to despair
(A deeper wound her heart was doom'd to bear)
Wanders amidst the thickets of the wood,
Her torn unsandal'd feet distain'd with blood;
And her wild tresses floating in the gale,
Wails her Assyrian lord, thro' many a long, long vale!
But on the mountain-brow Adonis lies,
Nor hears one echo of her ceaseless cries;
While, spouting from his thigh, the streams of gore
His bosom erst so white empurple o'er.

‘Perisht Adonis!’ my full sorrows sigh!
‘Perisht!’ the Loves—the weeping Loves reply!
Lo! Venus blooms no more in beauty's pride;
With him her graces liv'd! with him they died!
Those vivid blushes—those entrancing charms—
That form glow'd only for Adonis' arms!
The mountain-springs—the rivers, as they flow—
And the hill-oaks re-murmur to her woe!
The florets blush, in sorrow, at her feet;
While sad in every grove, thro' every street
Cythera chaunts: ‘Thy favourite youth is fled!’
Ah, Venus, mourn the fair Adonis dead!
Responsive echo sighs!—Who, who can hear
The lovelorn goddess moan, without a tear?

Soon as she saw her lover press the ground,
Wither'd his crimson thigh, and wide the wound,
She stretch'd her trembling arms, and deeply sigh'd;
[illeg.], ‘Stay, dear youth, a moment stay,’ (she cried)
That I may clasp thee, on thy breast recline,
Suck thy faint breath, and glue my lips to thine!
One tender token, dear Adonis, give—
Yet a short moment, while thy kisses live!
Then, as in death thy sinking eyes shall roll,
I'll catch the quivering spirit of thy soul,
‘Draw its quick flame, rekindled as we part;
‘Drink thy fond love, and store it in the heart!
‘Thus the last relic of affection take,
‘And here inclose it, for thy charming sake!
‘Far—far from me, to Pluto's spectred coast,
‘Belov'd Adonis! flies thy gentle ghost!
‘Wretch that I am, to breathe immortal breath,
‘That cannot join thee in the realms of death!
‘Queen of the shades, whom Fate hath giv'n to share
‘Whatever blooms on earth, or good or fair;
‘Far happier thou, take all my soul adores!
‘He comes, blest Queen, he hastens to thy shores!
‘Alas! while here my fruitless sorrows stream,
‘Love, golden love, is vanisht as a dream:
‘Their wanton charms no more my Cupids own;
‘They droop, and perisht is my virgin zone.
‘Why, form'd so fair, with every softer grace,
‘Why, sweet Adonis, urge the savage chace?’
‘Thus Venus griev'd: and—‘Ah! thy joys are o'er’—
‘Her Cupids sobb'd—‘Adonis is no more.’

Wide as her lover's torrent-blood appears,
As copious flow'd the fountain of her tears!
The rose starts blushing from the sanguine dyes,
And from her tears anemonies arise.

‘Perisht Adonis!’ my full sorrows sigh!
‘Perisht!’ the Loves—the weeping Loves reply!
But cease to sigh unpitied to the groves
The hapless story of thy vanisht loves!
His velvet couch survey—nor longer weep—
See his fair limbs, and mark his beauteous sleep!
Come, let the bridal vest those limbs infold,
And pillow his reposing head in gold!
Tho' fix'd in death its pallid features frown,
That visage with the flowery chaplet crown!
Alas! no florets boast their glowing pride:
With him their fragrance, and their colour, died!
Shade him with myrtles—pour the rich perfumes—
No—perish ev'ry sweet—No more Adonis blooms!
His pale corse cover'd with a purple vest,
Behold he lies! And lo! the Loves distrest
Shear their bright locks, in agony of woe,
And spurn the useless dart, and break the bow!
Some quick unbind his buskin'd leg, and bring
In golden urns pure water from the spring;
While others gently bathe the bleeding wound,
Or with light pinions fan him, fluttering round.
See Hymen quench his torch, in wild despair,
And scatter the connubial wreath in air!
For nuptial songs, the dirge funereal sighs,
While Hymen sorrows, and Adonis dies!
The Graces mourn their sweet Adonis slain;
And louder ev'n than thou, Dione, plain!
Hark, from the Nine elegiac accents fall,
(Each plaintive cadence murmuring to recall
Their favourite bard) solicitous to save—
Ah! can he hear? or cross the irremeable wave?
Yet, Venus, cease: thy tears awhile forego—
Reserve thy sorrows for the year of woe!