Wildered, ungirt, unsandalled — the thorns pierce Her hastening feet and drink her sacred blood. Bitterly screaming out she is driven on

Through the long vales; and her Assyrian boy, Her love, her husband calls. The purple blood From his struck thigh stains her white navel now, Her bosom, and her neck before like snow.

Alas for Cytherea! the Loves mourn -
The lovely, the beloved is gone! - And now
Her sacred beauty vanishes away.

For Venus whilst Adonis lived was fair
Alas! her loveliness is dead with him.

The oaks and mountains cry, Ai! ai! Adonis! The springs their waters change to tears and

Who will weep not thy deadful woe, O Venus?
Soon as she saw and knew the mortal wound

Of her Adonis saw the life blood flow

From his fair thigh, now wasting, wailing loud
She clasped him, and cried

Stay, dearest one,

66

Stay, Adonis!

and mix my lips with thine!

Wake yet a while Adonis oh, but once!

31 The rivers change their streams to tears and weep, Boscombe

MS. cancelled.

34 resounds replies, Boscombe MS. cancelled.

38 wailing loud || she cried out, Boscombe MS. cancelled.

42 a while little, Boscombe MS. cancelled.

That I may kiss thee now for the last time
But for as long as one short kiss may live!
Oh, let thy breath flow from thy dying soul
Even to my mouth and heart, that I may suck
That

FROM VIRGIL

THE TENTH ECLOGUE

[V. 1-26]

MELODIOUS Arethusa, o'er

my verse

Shed thou once more the spirit of thy stream. Who denies verse to Gallus? So, when thou Glidest beneath the green and purple gleam Of Syracusan waters, mayst thou flow

Unmingled with the bitter Doric dew! Begin, and, whilst the goats are browsing now The soft leaves, in our way let us pursue The melancholy loves of Gallus. List! We sing not to the dead; the wild woods knew His sufferings, and their echoes . . .

Young Naiads,

wild

in what far woodlands

Wandered ye when unworthy love possessed
Your Gallus? Not where Pindus is up-piled,
Nor where Parnassus' sacred mount, nor where
Aonian Aganippe expands

The laurels and the myrtle-copses dim.
The pine-encircled mountain, Mænalus,

Fragment of the Tenth Eclogue. Published by Rossetti, 1870.

The cold crags of Lycæus, weep for him ;
And Sylvan, crowned with rustic coronals,
Came shaking in his speed the budding wands
And heavy lilies which he bore; we knew
Pan the Arcadian.

What madness is this, Gallus? Thy heart's care With willing steps pursues another there.

FROM DANTE

I

ADAPTED FROM A SONNET IN THE VITA NUOVA

WHAT Mary is when she a little smiles

I cannot even tell or call to mind,

It is a miracle so new, so rare.

II

SONNET

DANTE ALIGHIERI to GUIDO CAVALCANTI

GUIDO, I would that Lappo, thou, and I,
Led by some strong enchantment, might ascend
A magic ship, whose charmèd sails should fly
With winds at will where'er our thoughts might

wend,

Adapted from a Sonnet in the Vita Nuova. Published by Forman, 1876.

Sonnet. Published with Alastor, 1816.

So that no change, nor any evil chance
Should mar our joyous voyage, but it might be
That even satiety should still enhance
Between our hearts their strict community;
And that the bounteous wizard then would place
Vanna and Bice and my gentle love,

Companions of our wandering, and would grace
With passionate talk wherever we might rove
Our time, and each were as content and free
As I believe that thou and I should be.

III

THE FIRST CANZONE OF THE CONVITO

I

YE who intelligent the Third Heaven move,
Hear the discourse which is within my heart,

Which cannot be declared, it seems so new.
The Heaven whose course follows your power and art,
O gentle creatures that ye are! me drew,
And therefore may I dare to speak to you,
Even of the life which now I live, and yet

I

pray that ye will hear me when I cry,

And tell of mine own Heart this novelty;
How the lamenting Spirit moans in it,
And how a voice there murmurs against her
Who came on the refulgence of your sphere.

5 So, Mrs. Shelley, 1824 || And, Shelley, 1816.

10 my thy, Forman conj.

The First Canzone of the Convito. Published by Garnett, 1862, and dated 1820.

II

A sweet Thought, which was once the life within This heavy Heart, many a time and oft

Went up before our Father's feet, and there
It saw a glorious Lady throned aloft ;
And its sweet talk of her my soul did win,

So that I said, "Thither I too will fare."
That Thought is fled, and one doth now
appear

Which tyrannizes me with such fierce stress

That my heart trembles - ye may see it leap-
And on another Lady bids me keep

Mine eyes, and says: "Who would have blessedness
Let him but look upon that Lady's eyes;
Let him not fear the agony of sighs."

III

This lowly Thought, which once would talk with me Of a bright Seraph sitting crowned on high, Found such a cruel foe it died; and so

My Spirit wept the grief is hot even nowAnd said, "Alas for me! how swift could flee

That piteous Thought which did my life console !" And the afflicted one questioning

Mine eyes, if such a Lady saw they never,

And why they would . . .

I said: "Beneath those eyes might stand for

ever

He whom

regards must kill with.

...

To have known their power stood me in little

Those

stead;

eyes have looked on me, and I am dead."