on him and bring him death, the boy laughed mockingly and with scorn.
There came at last a day when she asked him what he did on the morrow, and Adonis told her with sparkling eyes that had no heed for her beauty, that he had word of a wild boar, larger, older, more fierce than any he had ever slain, and which, before the chariot of Diana next passed over the land of Cyprus, would be lying dead with a spear-wound through it.
With terrible foreboding. Aphrodite tried to dissuade him from his venture.
"O, be advised: thou know'st not what it is
With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore.
Whose tushes never sheathed he whetteth still.
Like to a mortal butcher, bent to kill.
.....
Alas, he naught esteems that face of thine.
To which love's eyes pay tributary gazes;
Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips, and crystal eyne.
Whose full perfection all the world amazes;
But having thee at vantage—wondrous dread!—
Would root these beauties as he roots the mead."
To all her warnings, Adonis would but give smiles. Ill would it become him to slink abashed away before the fierceness of an old monster of the woods, and, laughing in the pride of a whole-hearted boy at a woman's idle fears, he sped homewards with his hounds.
With the gnawing dread of a mortal woman in her soul, Aphrodite spent the next hours. Early she sought the forest that she might again plead with Adonis, and
