The Grecian woman's daughter's going to sing About Adonis: she that sings so finely:
In plaintive airs, they say, she rivals Sperchis: Her song will be most charming; that I know; Now, watch her die-away soft look; she'll sing.
OH Venus! swimming all in gold! oh queen,
That lovest the Golgian groves, Idalia's green!
And steep, o'er-hanging Eryx' mountain scene!
In the twelfth moon the Hours, soft-footed, glide,
And bring, from Acheron's perennial tide,
Thy own Adonis: slow the Hours may roam,
Yet come with blessings, when at last they come.
Oh daughter of Dione! thou hast given
To Berenice charms that bloom of Heaven;
Pour'd dews ambrosial in her mortal breast,
And bid her live, among immortals blest.
Arsinoe now, her grateful daughter, fair
As Helen' self, repays thee for thy care.
Oh graced with many names! with many shrines!
Deck'd by her hands thy own Adonis shines.
For him each tree the season's fruitage sheds;
From silver baskets breathe the garden beds;
Vases of gold drop Syrian unguents round;
And cakes of snowy meal with flowers are crown'd;
Smooth-kneaded on the board, with female toil,
Of luscious honey, and of liquid oil.
Here birds and reptiles haunt; while anise weaves
Its green festoons, and bowers them in its leaves.
Small Cupids, perch'd like, nightingales on high,
Vault midst the boughs, and, poised, their pinions try.
Oh ebony! oh gold! and ivory white!...
Oh eagles, bearing, in your upward flight,
The youthful cup-bearer of Jove! behold,
Softer than sleep, the purple carpets roll'd;
The weaver of Miletus this might say,
This tribute might the Samian shepherd pay.
For the soft pair behold the couches spread;
Here Venus, there Adonis, gilds the bed;
Adonis, with his rose-tipp'd arms, now seen
In bridegroom bloominess of fair eighteen ;
His ruddy lips just ripening into bliss,...
Impressing smooth the soft and beardless kiss.
Then now let Venus with her bridegroom wooe;
But throngs of maidens, with the morning dew,
Shall to the frothy waves his image bear,
With trailing vestures and dishevell❜d hair;
And thus begin the song, with bosoms bare:
"Thou passest, dear Adonis! to and fro
To th' upper stream, from Acheron below:
No other demi-god has thus return'd;
Atrides; Ajax, that with madness burn'd;
Hector, of Priam's sons the proudest joy;
Patroclus; Pyrrhus, who subverted Troy;
Deucalion's race; or Lapithæ of old;
Or Pelops' flower; or those, of stern Pelasgian mould:
Still smile, Adonis ! bless each future year!
Thou kind appearest now; thus ever kind appear!"
GORGO. You'll own, Praxinoe, that a woman, too, Is a wise creature. What a blessed lady! What knowledge is within that little head!
And so sweet-voiced too! But 'tis time for home.
My good man has not dined: you know his temper; So cross and choleric! I'd not have you meet him, Ere he has stay'd his stomach. Dear Adonis ! Now fare thee well! joy go with thy procession!
IN Sparta once the nuptial chorus flow'd,
Where Menelaus, yellow-hair'd, abode:
Twelve virgins, noblest of the city, there
Braided with blooming hyacinth their hair:
The pride of all the Spartan maids were they,
Who to the painted chamber raised the lay.
When Atreus' younger son the damsel bore,
The bride, dear Helen, and had closed the
They in one strain brake sweetly forth; and beat
Lightly the ground with inter-twining feet.
The mansion echoed from its roofs around
The wedding song, with hymeneal sound:
"Dost thou, dear bridegroom! to thy chamber
flee
In twilight eve, and weary bows thy knee? Slumber thy eyelids? art thou bathed in wine, That, early thus, thy limbs in rest recline? Thou might'st have rested at more timely hour, And left the virgin in her mother's bower,
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