MORT D’ADONIS
DONIS dies. (Imagination hears
The hoarse harsh breathing of the ill-nurtured boar)
Venus bends low, half mother and half whore,
Whole murderess of boy’s budhood. Fall, black fears!
Ay! through her widowed, her unwedded tears,
The foolish filial appeal, ‘“ Restore, |
O Father Zeus, this tender life once more!”
Falls the baulked hope of half a million years.
She in her gloom and ignorance will go
Forlorn to Paphos, wrapt in urgent woe,
Her hair funereal swathing her fallen form,
Its wind-swept horror holding him; his white
Torn body blushing through tempestuous night.
So breaks the life in hell, the year in storm.
62