Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
"Within this limit is relief enough,
Sweet bottom-grass and high delightful plain,
Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough,
To shelter thee from tempest and from rain:

Then be my deer, since I am such a park;
No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand
bark."

At this Adonis smiles as in disdain,
That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple:
Love made those hollows, if himself were slain,
He might be buried in a tomb so simple;

240

Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie, Why, there Love lived, and there he could not die. These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits, Open'd their mouths to swallow Venus' liking. Being mad before, how doth she now for wits? Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking? 250 Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn, To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn!

Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say? Her words are done, her woes the more increasing;

236 bottom-grass] luxuriant grass in the depths of a valley.

240 rouse] a hunting term technically employed in the chase of the hart. See Wyndham's edition of Shakespeare's Poems, p. 213.

243 if himself] so that if he himself.

251 in thine own law forlorn] lost or ruined by the force of thine own law.

The time is spent, her object will away
And from her twining arms doth urge releasing.
"Pity," she cries, "some favour, some remorse!"
Away he springs, and hasteth to his horse.
But, lo, from forth a copse that neighbours by,
A breeding jennet, lusty, young and proud,
Adonis' trampling courser doth espy,
And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud:

The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree,
Breaketh his rein and to her straight goes he.

Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,
And now his woven girths he breaks asunder;
The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds,
Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thunder;
The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth,
Controlling what he was controlled with.

His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane
Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end;
His nostrils drink the air, and forth again,
As from a furnace, vapours doth he send:

His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire,
Shows his hot courage and his high desire.
Sometimes he trots, as if he told the steps,
With gentle majesty and modest pride;

257 remorse] compassion.

260 jennet] a small Spanish mare, a nag.

272 compass'd] rounded, arched. Cf. Troil. and Cress., I, ii, 106: "the compassed window," i. e., bow window.

260

270

Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps,
As who should say "Lo, thus my strength is tried;
And this I do to captivate the eye

Of the fair breeder that is standing by."

What recketh he his rider's angry stir,
His flattering "Holla" or his "Stand, I say"?
What cares he now for curb or pricking spur?
For rich caparisons or trappings gay?

He sees his love, and nothing else he sees,
For nothing else with his proud sight agrees.

Look, when a painter would surpass the life
In limning out a well proportion'd steed,
His art with nature's workmanship at strife
As if the dead the living should exceed;

So did this horse excel a common one
In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone.

Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,
Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostril wide,
High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide:

Look, what a horse should have he did not lack,
Save a proud rider on so proud a back.

279 curvets] prances.

284 "Holla"] Stop! Cf. As you like it, III, ii, 229–230: "Cry 'holla' to thy tongue, .. it curvets unseasonably." According to Cotgrave, Fr.-Engl. Dict., "Holla" meant "Enough; soft, soft; no more of that, if you love me."

291 His art... at strife] Cf. line 11, supra,

and note.

280

290

800

Sometime he scuds far off, and there he stares;
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather;

To bid the wind a base he now prepares,
And whether he run or fly they know not whether;
For through his mane and tail the high wind sings,
Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings.
He looks upon his love and neighs unto her;
She answers him, as if she knew his mind:
Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her,
She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind,

Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels,
Beating his kind embracements with her heels.
Then, like a melancholy malcontent,
He vails his tail, that, like a falling plume,
Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent:
He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume.
His love, perceiving how he was enraged,
Grew kinder, and his fury was assuaged.

His testy master goeth about to take him;
When, lo, the unback'd breeder, full of fear,

303 To bid the wind a base] To challenge the wind in a running match. "Base" is a technical term in the game of "prisoner's base," in which a player bade or challenged another to run without being caught from one fixed bound or base to another in a farther corner of the field. Cf. Two Gent., I, ii, 97: "Indeed, I bid the base for Proteus," and note. 310 outward strangeness] seeming shyness or backwardness. Cf. line 524, infra, and Sonnet lxxxix, 8: "I will look strange."

314 vails] lowers, droops. Cf. line 956, infra.

320 unback'd] unridden, virgin. Cf. line 419, infra: "The colt that's

back'd."

310

320

Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him,
With her the horse, and left Adonis there:

As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them,
Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them.
All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits,
Banning his boisterous and unruly beast:
And now the happy season once more fits,
That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest;
For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong
When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.

An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd,
Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage:
So of concealed sorrow may be said;
Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage;

But when the heart's attorney once is mute,
The client breaks, as desperate in his suit.
He sees her coming, and begins to glow,
Even as a dying coal revives with wind,
And with his bonnet hides his angry brow,
Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind,
Taking no notice that she is so nigh,
For all askance he holds her in his eye.

321 of catching] of being caught.

330 barr'd the aidance] refused the aid. The common sentiment is finely expressed in Macb., IV, iii, 209-210: "the grief that does not speak Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break."

331-332 An oven

more rage] Cf. Tit. Andr., II, iv, 36-37: "Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, Doth burn the heart to cinders." 335 the heart's attorney] the tongue. Cf. Rich. III, IV, iv, 127: “Windy attorneys [i. e., spoken words] to their client woes."

330

340