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But this is true; so like was one the other,
As he imagined Hero was his mother;
And oftentimes into her bosom flew,

About her naked neck his bare arms threw,
And laid his childish head upon her breast,
And, with still panting rockt, there took his rest.
So lovely-fair was Hero, Venus' nun,

As Nature wept, thinking she was undone,
Because she took more from her than she left,
And of such wondrous beauty her bereft;
Therefore, in sign her treasure suffered wrack,
Since Hero's time hath half the world been black.
[From HERO AND LEANDER.]

RICHARD BARNFIELD [1574-1627]

AN ODE

As it fell upon a day

In the merry month of May,

Sitting in a pleasant shade

Which a grove of myrtles made,

Beasts did leap, and birds did sing,

Trees did grow, and plants did spring;
Everything did banish moan,

Save the nightingale alone:

She, poor bird, as all forlorn,

Leaned her breast up-till a thorn,

And there sung the dolefull'st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity:
"Fie, fie, fie," now would she cry;
"Teru, teru!" by and by;
That to hear her so complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain;
For her griefs, so lively shown,
Made me think upon mine own.
Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain!
None takes pity on thy pain:

Senseless trees they cannot hear thee;
Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee:
King Pandion he is dead;

All thy friends are lapped in lead;
All thy fellow birds do sing,
Careless of thy sorrowing.

Even so, poor bird, like thee,
None alive will pity me.

Whilst as fickle Fortune smiled,
Thou and I were both beguiled.
Every one that flatters thee
Is no friend in misery.

Words are easy, like the wind;

Faithful friends are hard to find:

Every man will be thy friend

Whilst thou hast wherewith to spend;
But if store of crowns be scant,
No man will supply thy want.
If that one be prodigal,
Bountiful they will him call,
And with such-like flattering,
"Pity but he were a king;"
If he be addict to vice,
Quickly him they will entice;
If to women he be bent,
They have at commandement:
But if Fortune once do frown,
Then farewell his great renown;
They that fawned on him before
Use his company no more.

He that is thy friend indeed,
He will help thee in thy need:
If thou sorrow, he will weep;
If thou wake, he cannot sleep;
Thus of every grief in heart
He with thee doth bear a part.
These are certain signs to know
Faithful friend from flattering foe.

WILLIAM SHAKSPERE [1564-1616]

VENUS BEWAILETH THE DEATH OF ADONIS

"My tongue cannot express my grief for one,
And yet," quoth she, "behold two Adons dead!
My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone,
Mine eyes are turned to fire, my heart to lead:
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?

The flowers are sweet, their colors fresh and trim;
But true-sweet beauty lived and died with him.

"Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear!
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 lived, sun and sharp air

Lurked 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;
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 walked along

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;
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;
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-snouted boar,
Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave,
Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore;
Witness the entertainment that he gave:

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 the boar with his sharp spear,
Who did not whet his teeth at him again,
But by a kiss thought to persuade him there;
And nuzzling in his flank, the loving swine
Sheathed unaware the tusk in his soft groin.

"Had I been toothed like him, I must confess,
With kissing him I should have killed him first;
But he is dead, and never did he bless
My youth with his; the more am I accurst."
With this, she falleth in the place she stood,
And stains her face with his congealed blood.

She looks upon his lips, and they are pale;
She takes him by the hand, and that is cold;
She whispers in his ears a heavy tale,

As if they heard the woeful words she told;

She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes,

Where, lo, two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies;

Two glasses, where herself herself beheld

A thousand times, and now no more reflect;
Their virtue lost, wherein they late excelled,

And every beauty robbed of his effect:

"Wonder of time," quoth she, "this is my spite, That, thou being dead, the day should yet be light.

"Since thou art dead, lo, here I prophesy:
Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend:
It shall be waited on with jealousy,
Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end,
Ne'er settled equally, but high or low,

That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe.

"It shall be fickle, false, and full of fraud;
Bud, and be blasted, in a breathing-while;
The bottom poison, and the top o'erstrawed
With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile:
The strongest body shall it make most weak,
Strike the wise dumb and teach the fool to speak.

"It shall be sparing, and too full of riot, Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures; The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet,

Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures; It shall be raging-mad and silly-mild,

Make the young old, the old become a child.

"It shall suspect where is no cause of fear;

It shall not fear where it should most mistrust;
It shall be merciful and too severe,

And most deceiving when it seems most just;
Perverse it shall be where it shows most toward;
Put fear to valour, courage to the coward.

"It shall be cause of war and dire events,
And set dissension 'twixt the son and sire;
Subject and servile to all discontents,
As dry combustious matter is to fire:

Sith in his prime Death doth my love destroy,

They that love best their loves shall not enjoy."

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