Page:Shakespeare Collection of Poems.djvu/60

If he did see his face, why then I know,
He thought to kiss him, and hath killed him so.

'Tis true, true, true, thus was Adonis slain,
He ran upon the Boar with his sharp spear,
Who would not whet his teeth at him again,
But, by a kiss, thought to perswade him there:
And, nousling in his flank, the loving Swine,
Sheath'd, unaware, his tusk in his soft groine.

Had I been tooth'd like him, I must confess,
With kissing him, I should have kill'd him first,
But he is dead, and never did he bless
My youth with his; the more am I accurst;
With this she falleth in the place she stood,
And stains her face with his congealed blood.

She looks upon his lips, and they are pale;
She takes him by the hand, and that is cold;
She whispers in his ear a heavy tale,
As if he heard the woful words she told:
She lifts the coffer lids that close his eyes,
Where loe, two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies.

Two glasses, where her self her self beheld
A thousand times, and now, no more reflect,
Their vertue lost, wherein they late excel'd,
And every beauty rob'd of his effect:
Wonder of time (quoth she) this is my spight,
That, you being dead, the day should yet be light.

Since