410 To make a coronal; and round him grew And virgin's bower, trailing airily; 420 Lay sorrowing; when every tear was born Of diverse passion; when her lips and eyes thou call Curses upon his head. I was half glad, But my poor mistress went distract and mad, When the boar tusk'd him: so away she flew To Jove's high throne, and by her plainings drew Immortal tear-drops down the thunderer's beard; Whereon, it was decreed he should be rear'd Each summer-time to life. Lo! this is he, Over his waned corse, the tremulous shower Heal'd up the wound, and, with a balmy Pigeons and doves: Adonis something mutter'd, Were closed in sullen moisture, and quick The while one hand, that erst upon his sighs thigh Lay dormant, moved convulsed and gradu- Of these first minutes? The unchariest ally Unto the clover-sward, and she has talk'd To your dimpled arms. Once more sweet At this, from every side they hurried in, 510 For, as delicious wine doth, sparkling, dive fair, So from the arbour roof down swell'd an air Disparted, and far upward could be seen chill muse To embracements warm as theirs makes coy excuse. O it has ruffled every spirit there, The general gladness: awfully he stands; 540 There darts strange light of varied hues A scowl is sometimes on his brow, but who Endymion feels it, and no more controls He had begun a plaining of his woe. Favour this gentle youth; his days are wild On soft Adonis' shoulders, made him still 520 Soon were the white doves plain, with necks stretch'd out, And silken traces lighten'd in descent; ment, Queen Venus leaning downward openarm'd: Her shadow fell upon his breast, and A tumult to his heart, and a new life With starlight gems: aye, all so huge and Through unknown things; till exhaled as strange, The solitary felt a hurried change Working within him into something dreary, Vex'd like a morning eagle, lost, and weary, And purblind amid foggy, midnight wolds. But he revives at once: for who beholds New sudden things, nor casts his mental slough? Forth from a rugged arch, in the dusk below, 639 Came mother Cybele! alone - alone — The sluggish wheels; solemn their toothed maws, Their surly eyes brow-hidden, heavy paws Uplifted drowsily, and nervy tails. Cowering their tawny brushes. Silent sails This shadowy queen athwart, and faints away In another gloomy arch. |