POEMS. VENUS AND ADONIS. EVEN as the sun, with purple-coloured face, Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping inorn, Rose-cheek'd ADONIS hied him to the chase: Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn. Sick-thoughted VENUS makes amain unto him, And like a bold-fac'd suitor, 'gins to woo him. Thrice fairer than myself! (thus she began) Nature, that made thee, with herself at strife, Vouchsafe, thou wonder! to alight thy steed, Here come and sit, where serpent never hisses, B VENUS AND ADONIS. And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety, With this she seizeth on his sweating palm, Over one arm the lusty courser's rein, She red and hot, as coals of glowing fire, The studded bridle, on a ragged bough To tie the rider she begins to prove. Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust, And govern'd him in strength, tho' not in lust. |