THRENODY

     I weep for Adonais—­he is dead! 
        Dead Adonais lies, and mourning all,
     The Loves wail round his fair, low-lying head. 
        O Cypris, sleep no more!  Let from thee fall
     Thy purple vestments—­hear’st thou not the call? 
        Let fall thy purple vestments!  Lay them by! 
     Ah, smite thy bosom, and in sable pall
        Send shivering through the air thy bitter cry
     For Adonais dead, while all the Loves reply.

I weep for Adonais—­weep the Loves. 
Low on the mountains beauteous lies he there,
And languid through his lips the faint breath moves,
And black the blood creeps o’er his smooth thigh, where
The boar’s white tooth the whiter flesh must tear. 
Glazed grow his eyes beneath the eyelids wide;
Fades from his lips the rose, and dies—­Despair! 
The clinging kiss of Cypris at his side—­
Alas, he knew not that she kissed him as he died!

I wail—­responsive wail the Loves with me. 
Ah, cruel, cruel is that wound of thine,
But Cypris’ heart-wound aches more bitterly. 
The Oreads weep; thy faithful hounds low whine;
But Cytherea’s unbound tresses fine
Float on the wind; where thorns her white feet wound,
Along the oaken glades drops blood divine. 
She calls her lover; he, all crimsoned round
His fair white breast with blood, hears not the piteous sound.

Alas! for Cytherea wail the Loves,
With the beloved dies her beauty too. 
O fair was she, the goddess borne of doves,
While Adonais lived; but now, so true
Her love, no time her beauty can renew. 
Deep-voiced the mountains mourn; the oaks reply;
And springs and rivers murmur sorrow through
The passes where she goes, the cities high;
And blossoms flush with grief as she goes desolate by.

Alas for Cytherea! he hath died—­
The beauteous Adonais, he is dead! 
And Echo sadly back “is dead” replied. 
Alas for Cypris!  Stooping low her head,
And opening wide her arms, she piteous said,
“O stay a little, Adonais mine! 
Of all the kisses ours since we were wed,
But one last kiss, oh, give me now, and twine
Thine arms close, till I drink the latest breath of thine!

“So will I keep the kiss thou givest me
E’en as it were thyself, thou only best! 
Since thou, O Adonais, far dost flee—­
Oh, stay a little—­leave a little rest!—­
And thou wilt leave me, and wilt be the guest
Of proud Persephone, more strong than I? 
All beautiful obeys her dread behest—­
And I a goddess am, and cannot die! 
O thrice-beloved, listen!—­mak’st thou no reply?

“Then dies to idle air my longing wild,
As dies a dream along the paths of night;
And Cytherea widowed is, exiled
From love itself; and now—­an idle sight—­
The Loves sit in my halls, and all delight
My charmed girdle moves, is all undone! 
Why wouldst thou, rash one, seek the maddening fight? 
Why, beauteous, wouldst thou not the combat shun?”—­
Thus Cytherea—­and the Loves weep, all as one.