y. A to v olen'ih katyshkah potretsya... U trusov - nu otkuda chto beretsya? Smeshaet zapahi, podi ego unyuhaj, Naduet opolchivshuyusya svoru, Laj smolknet, zazvenit komarik v uho, No snova zharkim gonchim zapah vporu, I s oblakov razdastsya eha zvon, Kak budto na nebe takoj zhe gon. A zayac izdaleka, na holme Na lapy zadnie pripodnimayas'. Ushami laj lovya, okamenel. I skachet serdce v nem, ne unimayas', V tomlen'e smertnom slysha, kak skvoz' son, Laj, kak bolyashchij pohoronnyj zvon. Uzrish' ego dorozhki ty v rose, Petlyayushchij ego uvidish' put', Kak lapki obegali kamni vse, Vse teni, vse. Vse navodilo zhut'. Vse, vsya, opasno bylo otovsyudu. Ni druzhbe ne sluchit'sya s nim, ni chudu. Lezhi, lezhi, ne prygaj, mal'chik moj, Menya poslushaj, nikuda ne rvis', I dur' kaban'yu ot sebya doloj, Hot' ne lyubi menya, da podchinis', Bud' ya hot' kto, a delo govoryu. Lyubov' vse znaet! Ver', ya v koren' zryu! Tak chto ya govorila?" - "Naplevat'! Pusti, pojdu, i skazochke konec, Noch' na dvore!" - "Nu, noch'." - "YA zh tak prospat' Riskuyu vstrechu! - zaoral yunec. - A schas pojdu da shlepnus' v temnote!" Ona v otvet: "T'ma - svetoch krasote. I upadesh' - znat', za nogi zemlya Tebya shvatila, chtob toboj vladet', CHtoby nasil'no celovat' tebya, Stat' vdrug vorovkoj: kak ot deneg, obaldet' Ot gub! Diana pryachetsya sama Sred' tuch, boyas' sojti s toboj s uma! YA, kstati, ponimayu, chto za mrak - Boginya vzglyad serebryanyj otvodit, Vot do chego prekrasen ty, durak, CHto nebo ot sravneniya uhodit! Boyas', chto bleskom solnce ty zatmish', A mesyac stanet seren'kim, kak mysh'!" Vzyvaet k roku blednaya boginya, CHtob s neyu ne mogla zemlya ravnyat'sya: "Rok, izuroduj krasoty svyatyni, Sudi ee chertam v tenyah teryat'sya, Predmetom sdelav zlobnyh tiranij I nizostej, da i voobshche, ubij!" I rok naslal, poslushav, blednyj zhar. YAd v krov' pronik - chumoyu krov' sogrelas', Gniyushchih nervov oderevenelost'... "Vpitali kosti plavyashchij pozhar, Za blesk tvoj mstit bezumiem unynij Svod gornij chernyj, svod gornij sinij! I net granicy prokazhennyh dnej, CHej mig s lihvoyu privedet k pobede, Nad zybkoj krasotoj vysokih chuvstv, strastej, I ty poslednij videl ih na svete. Vysokij hlad ih, sneg granitnyh gor, Kipit, rastoplen solncem, krutit sor! Tak chto zh nevinnost' bez tolku hranish'? Ty chto, vestalka? - chist, kak tri monashki?! S nih brat' primer - tak ni odin malysh Ne prooret, chto on rozhden v rubashke! Bud' proshche, trat'sya, v lampu maslo lej! CHtob ne stemnela prelest' nashih dnej! CHto plot' tvoya takoe, kak ne grob? Detej pod kryshkoj dushashchij tvoih, Kotoryh ne rodil ty - zhmot ty, zhlob! V sokrytoj temnote ty dushish' ih, I chto zh, chto ty umen da ne rasputnik? Kogda vsem vidno, kto ty est' - prestupnik! V tebe vojna. Grazhdanskaya vojna! Vojna s toboyu budushchih detej, Samoubijca, ty hot' pokrasnej! Detoubijce sovest' ne strashna! Glup v zemlyu zaryvayushchij talant. Trat' den'gi, il' ty zhizni diletant!" "Opyat' ty nachala svoyu volynku? Da ya ee uzh slushat' ne mogu, Zachem ya v guby celoval kretinku, CHto v lob, chto po lbu! Dityatko, "agu" - Nochnye pohotlivye potugi, Mne chto-to merzko ot takoj podrugi. Imej ty dvadcat' tysyach yazykov, CHush' melyushchih serdechno, kak listochki, Zvuchashchih, kak siren zapretnyj zov, - Vresh'! ushi voskom zality, kak bochki. Privyazan k machte krepkoyu strunoj, YA ravnodushen k pagube morskoj! Ot uha proch', vokal'noe iskusstvo! S moim dyhan'em pesnya eta ne slilas'. Bej, serdce, ne uznavshee ni chuvstva, Bej rovno, nikuda ne toropyas'! Net, feya, net, ne ran' ego zhestoko, Pust' dyshit grud' legko i odinoko! Besspornyh slov na svete net, lisa, Put' neuklonnyj do bedy dovodit! Lyubov' chista - no esli ne gryazna I zhret ne vse, chto po puti nahodit A zhret - tak slovno opuhol' rastet, Vse vret, vse izvinyaet tem, chto zhret! Tak ne zovi lyubov'yu appetit! Hot' zamenil soboj on gornij hlad strastej, Lyubvi, pod maskoj, zhadnyj rot smerdit, Spalil cvety zlovonnyj suhovej, Vsej nezhnost'yu prirody zavladev, Bor zhret ogromnoj gusenicy zev. Kak dozhd' gribnoj, lyubov' blestit v trave, A blud - kak burya v polden' zolotoj! Lyubov' - kapel' nebes na sineve, Blud - zamorozki majskoyu zarej! Lyubov' - bessmertna! Pohot' - istlevaet! Lyubvi vse vedomo, blud - vse pozabyvaet! Eshche by ya skazal tebe, da hvatit! Bez us orator, s borodoyu rech', Poshel ya. CHto s toskoj zdes' vremya tratit'? Tut styd, tut gnev vsyu dushu mogut szhech'... Glyan', ushi zagorelis' i pylayut, ZHzhet sluh tvoj p'yanyj bred i oglushaet". On razryvaet sladkoe kol'co Ob®yatij, u grudi ego derzhavshih, I udiraet v noch', zakryv lico. I na spine lezhit, ne solono hlebavshi, Venera. S neba padaet zvezda... I na shcheke ee gorit sleza. Sledit za nim - zvezdoj svoej upavshej, Tak, kak poroj otplyvshij druzhnij cheln Sledim, davno ischeznuvshij mezh voln, Uzh s oblakami parusa smeshavshij. Tak volny noch'yu unesli s soboj Togo, kem vzor pitalsya goluboj. Rasteryanna, kak devushka, v reke Sluchajno utopivshaya dragoe Kol'co, il' putnik, fakel v ch'ej ruke Pogas negadanno poroj nochnoyu; Kromeshnoj temnotoj udruchena, Tihon'ko lezha plakala ona I po grudi rukoj sebya stuchala. Ej eho vtorilo kruzhnyh peshcher I stony bednoj devy povtoryalo, I vozveshchalo bol' ee poter'... Raz dvadcat' povtorilo slovo "gore" - Zvuk otrazhenij slov v nochnom minore. I, slysha zvuk, unylaya, ona Peshcheram vtorit' pesnej prinyalasya. Predanij v nej otkrylas' starina, Pyl starcheskij, yuncov bezusyh strasti, I mudrost' glupovatuyu stihov Poet ona pod hor peshchernyh rtov. Vsyu noch' prodlilis' skuchnye napevy, No noch' korotkoyu kazalas' ej, Vazhny vlyublennym malen'kie temy, Kotorye chem dal'she, tem skuchnej; Oni s vostorgom vse nesut tot bred, Kotoromu konca i slushatelya net. S kem noch' ej provesti, komu otkryt'sya? Lish' eho-prizhivalka vse voz'met, CHtob, kak sluzhanka, tut zhe soglasit'sya, Hot' i neznamo, chto ona neset. No sprosit: "Da?" - i eho "Da!" otvetit; "Net" skazhet - i sluzhanka s neyu v "neti". No utro uzh, i vzvilsya zhavoronok, Skuchaya snom, iz komnatki svoej, Rassvetnyj vzdoh serebryan i tak tonok... Podsolnuh otdelilsya ot kornej, Vzoshel na nebo - zemlyu risovat', Zlatit' holmy i krony shtrihovat'. Venera boga solnca privechaet: "|j, zdravstvuj, svetozarnyj car' luchej! Svechoj i zvezdami tvoj zhezl povelevaet, Ty derzhish' svyazku k krasote klyuchej, Tak znaj: rozhdennyj mater'yu zemnoj Adonis svet zatmil vysokij tvoj!" I, prihvastnuv, mchit v mirtovuyu roshchu, Volnuyas', chto uzh utro-to, davno l' Ty probudilsya, drug, ot mraka noshchi? Ne slyshno psov. Molchit rozhok. Tish'. Znoj. No vot v lesnoj glushi rozhkovo pen'e. Krik, shum, - tuda! Drozha ot neterpen'ya, Bezhit ona, i les ej cepkij vdrug, Laskayas', to sandaliyu snimaet S bosoj nogi, to vetkoj vyryvaet Ser'gu, to plat'e ej ceplyaet suk. Ona, kak lan' lesnaya, boyazliva, Telenka mchit kormit'. Vot bryznet molozivo! No - ah! Vdrug izmenilsya pesij laj. I deva na mgnoven'e kameneet, Kak esli by vspolzla na tropki kraj Zmeya i zashipela pered neyu. Tak vizg sobachij grud' ee trevozhit, Smushchaya um, zmeeyu serdce glozhet. Ne zayac tam! Ne zayac! Net! Medved'! Net, huzhe! Lev! Ah, net! Kaban proklyatyj! Vse tam zhe pesij vizg, a on - revet', Skulyat psy, budto malye shchenyata, Protivnik strashen tut navernyaka, Podi-ka, prevrati ty psa v shchenka! Zvenit v ushah unylyj vizg sobak I zhalkim strahom v serdce pronikaet, Krov' v tot zhe mig ot serdca otlivaet, Hladeyut ruki i temno v glazah! I chleny kameneyut, kak soldaty - Bez znameni i zhdushchie rasplaty. I vot stoit trepeshchushchej ovechkoj I chuvstva unimaet, toropyas', Sebe tverdya: mol, chudyatsya mne vechno Kakie-nibud' strahi, ne sprosyas'! Da perestat' by glupostej strashit'sya! Vdrug - vepr' v krovi! On prygaet, on mchitsya, Dymyatsya krov' i pena na klykah, Krov' s molokom, kak govoryat poroyu; Podzhilki ej tryaset povtornyj strah, I - ah! - bezhit, ne vlastvuya soboyu! I vstala. Net, uzh brosilas' obratno, I mysl' odna: "Ubit, ubit neshchadno!" Uzhe krugom vse tropy obezhala, Lesok, tropinku k ozeru, lesok, Kusty neschastnye perelomala, Tak p'yanyj, bestolkovyj muzhichok Krugom izby svoej, kachayas', brodit I vse puti teryaet, chto nahodit. Vot v burelome vidit psa ona: On laet tak stydlivo, i ne v stae. Drugoj pes lizhet rany, i slyuna V krovi i, ne daj bog, konechno, v yade... K izbitoj suke robko obratila Slova, i ta v otvet protyazhno vzvyla; I dolgo v nebo tek sej skorbnyj voj. Vdrug pes yavilsya, ugol'nyj, kak traur, Skulya ponikshej nizko golovoj. Eshche, eshche... I voyut vsej oravoj. Drozha, podzhavshi gordye hvosty, Prizhaty ushi ih, hvatayut vozduh rty. Ves' mir lyudskoj pechal'no sueveren I veruet (obychaj stariny) V duhov i ved'm, tainstvennye sny I vidit smysl, chto gde-to v nih zateryan. Tak strashnym psam poverila ona I Smert' zovet - na nej lezhit vina! "O, Smert', o toshchij i kostlyavyj vrag! Za chto ty tak lyubov' voznenavidel? Grobovyj prizrak, zemlyanoj chervyak! Proch' iz krasy pohishchennoj, izydi! Komu nanes obidu brennyj prah, CHto rozoj cvel, i kak fialka pah?! Skazhi, on mertv? O net, ne mozhet stat'sya! Net! Ty krasoj ego pobezhdena! Net! Ty slepa! Ne rozam udivlyat'sya, Rvat' s nenavist'yu - vot tvoi dela! Ty v starost' metish', no nezryachij glaz Rebenka v serdce porazil v zloj chas. Kak znat', lish' slovo on proiznesi, To ty by, smert', sdalas', ty b otstupila! Rok povelel tebe v ad dushu unesti, No ne sornyak s zemlej ty razluchila, Amura luk ne vlasten byl nad nim, - Tvoj chernyj luk ego razveyal v dym! Ty shla goryuchih slez moih napit'sya? Zachem tebe moj sirotlivyj plach? Zachem emu teper' tak sladko spitsya? Emu, pri kom byl vsyakij slishkom zryach. S toboj teper' ves' mir prebudet v ssore, Ty luchshee ukrala v nem! O, gore!" I obmerla v molchanii tosklivom. Upali kudri na prikrytye glaza, Zakryvshi put' slezam, kak moryu shlyuz pered otlivom, Na persi chtob ne kapnula sleza. No veki ne uderzhat. Slez ruchej, Serebryan, u Venery iz ochej. Kak otlichish' glaza ee ot slez v nih? Raz slezy na glazah - glaza v slezah! Dvojnoj sapfir v dvojnoj pechali v vozduh Svoj tochit blesk, chut' suho na shchekah, Kak v den' dvoyashchijsya - to vetrenyj, to groznyj, Vzdoh vysushit lico, da dozhd' namochit sleznyj. Ee stenan'ya raznym polny chuvstvom, Kak volny v more, kto iz nih bystrej? Val kazhdyj govorit, chto ot nego ej grustno, No vseh sosednih ne izbegnut' ej. Net luchshej mezhdu mnogimi volnami; Tak nebo, zatyanuvshis' oblakami... "CHto? Parus? Zdes'?" - krichit ohotnik molodoj. Kak kolybel'naya skvoz' detskij strah nochnoj, I holst navyazchivyj voobrazhen'ya Nadezhdy zvuk palit bez sozhalen'ya. Ogon' nadezhdy radost'yu pylaet, Znakomyj golos... Serdce, eknuv, taet. O, chudo! Uzhli slezy mchatsya vspyat'? I tochno, v chashki zhemchuga katyatsya. Odna sorvalas' na shcheku opyat' I nachinaet v kaplyu rasplavlyat'sya, CHtob v gryaznyj rot popast' pramateri-zemle, Vsegda kotoraya ot slez navesele. Lyubov' hitra (v tom smysle, chto slozhna). Ne verit. Verit tut zhe bezoglyadno, Stradan'yam, schast'yam vsem - cena odna! Lozh' - svet! Lozh' - mrak! Ne stydno? Nu i ladno... Mrak vret, chto on na vas segodnya zloj, Svet tut zhe vret, chto lyubit vsej dushoj, I Penelopa raspuskaet tkan'... Adonis zhiv! CHego na Smert' rugat'sya? Ne unesla, tak znachit, i ne dryan'! Minutnyj vrag uzhe lyubim, priznat'sya. Uzh Smert' - Carica grobov, Grob carej, I dazhe - razreshen'e vseh cepej. "Net, net, ty. Smert', ne dumaj, ya ne zlyus', YA tak... Nemnogo prosto napugalas', YA kabanov v krovi, voobshche, boyus', Takie zveri... I, prosti, sorvalos'... Ne gnevajsya, ten' milaya moya, Za druga milogo boyalas' sduru ya. YA ne hotela, vse kaban durackij, O, svetlaya, skazhi, chtob on izdoh! Vse on, svin'ya, emu by vse rugat'sya, Ego, ego beznravstvennyj podvoh". Razdvoen gorem zhenskij yazychok, S dvumya ne spravitsya dam samyh umnyh polk... Nadeyas', chto Adonis-to zhivoj, Ona dolzhna povsyudu izvinit'sya, CHtob cvel krasavchik, i - ni bozhe moj! Pered kurnosoj egozit devica, Vse vspomniv: traurnye krepy, Triumfy, slepki, gipsovye sklepy... "Nabitaya lyubov'yu dura! Stydno! Umom kurinym, bab'im, ne dognat', Mogla l' takuyu prelest' smert' otnyat', Poka hot' chto-to zhivo? Ochevidno, S nim krasota by umerla sama, A bez nee bel svet sojdet s uma! T'fu na lyubov', t'fu na menya, trusihu!" Tak shvachennyj razbojnikom kupec, Vse ne smeknet, otkuda vzyat'sya lihu, No v kazhdom zvuke slyshit svoj konec. Vdrug rech' prerval ohotnichij rozhok, I prevratilas' devica v pryzhok! Kak sokol na svistok, masha kudryami, Kak i vsegda, ne priminaya trav, Mchit, legkaya, no vdrug, pered nogami, On okazalsya - nogi raskidav. Lezhit nedvizhno, sbityj kabanom. Vzor srazu gasnet, bleknut zvezdy v nem. Ulitka pryachet rozhki, tol'ko tron', Boleznenno ujdya v svoyu izvestku, Uyutnoj sliz'yu, tochno strujkoj vosku, Tusha goryachij uzhasa ogon'; Tak pred krovavym telom zhenskij vzglyad V glaznice rozhki spryatal, chto torchat. I, skryvshis' v cherep, fakel'shchik drozhit, O vidennom tverdya bol'nym mozgam, Mozg tushit fakel zren'ya i bryuzzhit: "Kuda s ognem? Ty podpalish' moj hram!" Gudit car'-serdca pogrebal'nyj zvon, Gorit altar' i perevernut tron... I vse drozhat u goroda vnutri. Tak gaz, v zemle sidyashchij, vdrug tryaset Tyur'my svoej vorota. Tresk i hrip, Lomaet kladku, chto vozvel raschet. Ves' organizm tak strashno sodrognulsya, CHto beglyj vzglyad nutra zrachkov kosnulsya I, protiv voli, vylilsya na svet Sverh shirochennoj i glubokoj rany. V boku lilejnom - bivnya strashnyj sled, Kak slezy - sok iz prorezi bagryanyj, Travu, cvety krugom krov' zalivaet, Trava kak budto krov'yu istekaet, I uroniv golovku na plecho, Boginya na polyane skorbi vstala, No vse eshche ne verit, vse eshche Ne verit v to, chto smertnogo ne stalo. Perehvatilo gorlo i dvizhen'e, Glaza soshli s uma ot pap ryazhen'ya. I tak uporno v treshchinu glyadit, CHto vidit tri drozhashchimi zrachkami, I nenavidit vzor svoj, i drozhit: "CHto uzhas ran utroili, vy p'yany?" - Ona shipit im. Stalo tela dva. A men'she ne vmeshchaet golova. "CHto zh nynche mne ne vyskazat' toski? K tomu zhe u menya dvoitsya trup, Slez bol'she net, i legkie suhi, Goryat. Sploshnoj ogon' svincovyh trub, YA zhazhdala ego, i ne pridetsya... Svinec, naverno, iz zrachkov pol'etsya. Mir, ya skazhu tebe, chto ty utratil! Ty radost' glaz utratil, mir proklyatyj, I muzyki tebe ne uslyhat'! Mir stal teper' hromoj, krivoj, gorbatyj, Svezhi tvoi cvety, da i pestry, No kto ty bez umershej krasoty? Nachnis', prostovolosyh zhenshchin era, Bescharnyh, ne celovannyh luchom I vozduhom, ch'ya krasota - himera, Vas luch sozhzhet, vam stanet vetr - bichom! A kak oni k Adonisu leteli! SHCHepotku char uvorovat' hoteli! I shlyapu nadvigal na brovi on, CHtob solnce pod polya ne pronikalo, Sryvaya shlyapu, veter mchalsya von, Pod plach Adonisa, lohmatil kudri shalo, I upivayas' vidom slez mladyh, Rugalis' bogi, kto osushit ih! Kak pozhiral ego ochami lev! - No spryatavshis', chtob ne pugat' rebenka, - A tot vdrug zapoet, kak flejta, zvonko - I tigr somlel, osklabya strashnyj zev. Zagovorit - i volk, tomyas' ot glada, Ne napadaet na baran'e stado. Kogda ego ten' padala v ruchej, To rybki v nej siyali chistym zlatom, A pticy peli na svetu ochej, Sletalis' i kormili vinogradom, Sliv, vishen sypali, vsego podryad, CHtob tol'ko mal'chik podaril im vzglyad. A zlobnyj vepr' s uzhasnymi klykami, Glyadevshij lish' skvoz' zemlyu na groby, I on ne izbezhal svoej sud'by: No, osleplennyj krasoty luchami, Uverena, chto vzyalsya celovat', A poluchilos' tol'ko zhizn' otnyat'... YA v pravde etih slov ubezhdena. Adonis podbezhal udarit' pikoj, I vspyhnulo tut serdce kabana, Ne gnevom, no lyubov'yu prevelikoj. On celovat'sya k mal'chiku polez, A poluchilsya na boku nadrez... YA dumayu, bud' u menya klyki, YA b pervaya ego togda ubila, Done prosto okazalos' ne s ruki, On umer... On ushel. Nedolyubila..." I, padaya na zhizhu s mertvecom, V krovi chut' teploj mazhetsya licom. Na guby vzglyanet, no uzh bleden rot, Za ruku shvatit - kozha ledyanaya, I na uho skabreznost' vdrug shepnet, Kak budto on lezhit vse ponimaya, No, nakonec-to, veki podnyala - Iz mertvyh svetochej sochilas' mgla. Venera chasto otrazhalas' v nih, No vot segodnya zerkala pusty, Kuda ischezla yarkost' ih, zhivyh? Tuda zhe, v sled mgnovennoj krasoty... Ona shepnula: "Est' odin vopros, Ty mertv, a den' kak den'... CHto zh s nim stryaslos'? Itak, ty mertv... Prorochestvo moe: Teper' lyubov' izvedaet pechal'! Povsyudu revnost' vlezet v tkan' ee. O! Gorya vkus u sladostnyh nachal, I nikogda ne porovnu, no tak, CHtob tonkij luch okutal strashnyj mrak! Strast' skorotechnoj budet, budet lzhivoj, Ee zadushit zhizni suhovej; Skryvayas' pod nachinkoyu krasivoj, Izmeny yad pogubit t'mu lyudej Iznosit telo, mozg lyubovnik vsyak, I stanet lish' boltayushchij durak... Pust' zhadnichaet, pust' brosaet den'gi, Pust' meru poteryaet v nej starik, Bandity budut ot lyubvi - chto deti, CHtob gol bogach, chtob nishchij byl velik, Rozhdaet idiotov i buyanov, Rebyat sostarit, orebyachit starikanov! Pust' seet strah, gde strahi ne pri chem, Pust' na uzhasnoe vedet bez drozhi, Pust' budet blagorodnym palachom, Obmanyvaya tam, gde "Svyatyj Bozhe!" Kovarstvo nosit v maske pryamoty, Geroj ot trusa brositsya v kusty. Pust' stanet osnovaniem vojny, Otca i syna pust' podnimet v boj, Solominkoj, rozhdayushchej ogon', Nesya znak neproshchaemoj viny! Raz sokrushila smert' vsyu strast' moyu, Lyubit' drugim ya prava ne dayu!" I tut valyavsheesya ryadom telo Vnezapno prevratilos' v legkij par - Krov' sobralas' i v stebel' zagustela. I vot cvetok - pohozhij na tyul'pan... Tak byl on bel, i vmeste s tem bagrov, Napominaya plot', i vmeste krov'. K cvetku sejchas zhe prizhimaya nos, Iskat' znakomyj zapah rta vzyalasya... I zapah v serdce, kak cvetok, proros... Hot' parom plot' po vetru uneslasya. Sorvav, k grudi bessil'no prizhimaet, Iz steblya sok slezoyu vystupaet. "Bednyazhechka! - shepnulo bozhestvo. - Otec tvoj, cvetik, tak zhe plakal sladko, Vse slezy istorgalo u nego, Vse, chto ne on - emu byvalo gadko. Ros dlya sebya, a ty uvyan' na mne, A ne v krovi otcovskoj, tak vernee. Zdes', na grudi, byla ego postel', Nasledoval ty pravo spat' na nej, V lozhbinke etoj bud' s toboyu Lel' I serdca stuk vdol' verenicy dnej; CHtob ya cvetka ne celovala - v sutki Bez etogo ne minet i minutki". Mir ej postyl. Pora iz mira ej! Dvuh vyahirej zovet s pustyh nebes, I v kolesnicu dikih golubej Vpryagaet. Mig - i ekipazh ischez... Svoj put' derzha na ostrovok Pafos. I vse... Vernut'sya ej ne dovelos'. W. Shakespeare VENUS AND ADONIS Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua. Ovidius. "De Amore" To the Right Honourable Henry Wriothesly, earl of Southampton, and baron of Titchfield. RIGHT HONOURABLE, I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your Lordship, nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden: only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if the first heir of my invention proved deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a godfather, and never after ear so barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world's hopeful expectation. Your Honour's in all duty, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE EVEN as the sun with purple-colour'd face Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn, Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase; Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn; Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him, And like a bold-fac'd suitor 'gins to woo him. 'Thrice fairer than myself,' thus she began, 'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare, Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man, More white and red than doves or roses are; Nature that made thee, with herself at strife, Saith that the world hath ending with thy life. 'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed, And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow; If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed A thousand honey secrets shall thou know: Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses; And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses: 'And yet not cloy thy lips with loath'd satiety, But rather famish them amid their plenty, Making them red and pale with fresh variety; Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty: A summer's day will seem an hour but short, Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport. With this she seizeth on his sweating palm, The precedent of pith and livelihood, And, trembling in her passion, calls it balm, Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good: Being so enrag'd, desire doth lend her force Courageously to pluck him from his horse. Over one arm the lusty courser's rein, Under her other was the tender boy, Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain, With leaden appetite, unapt to toy; She red and hot as coals of glowing fire, He red for shame, but frosty in desire. The studded bridle on a ragged bough Nimbly she fastens; - O! how quick is love: - The steed is stalled up, and even now To tie the rider she begins to prove: Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust, And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust. So soon was she along, as he was down, Each leaning on their elbows and their hips: Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown, And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips; And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken, 'If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.' He burns with bashful shame; she with her tears Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks; Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs To fan and blow them dry again she seeks: He saith she is immodest, blames her miss; What follows more she murders with a kiss. Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast, Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone, Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste, Till either gorge be stuff d or prey be gone; Even so she kiss'd his brow, his cheek, his chin, And where she ends she doth anew begin. Forc'd to content, but never to obey, Panting he lies, and breatheth in her face; She feedeth on the steam, as on a prey, And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace; Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers, So they were dew'd with such distilling showers. Look! how a bird lies tangled in a net, So fasten'd in her arms Adonis lies; Pure shame and aw'd resistance made him fret, Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes: Rain added to a river that is rank Perforce will force it overflow the bank. Still she entreats, and prettily entreats, For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale; Still is he sullen, still he lowers and frets, 'Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy-pale; Being red, she loves him best; and being white, Her best is better'd with a more delight. Look how he can, she cannot choose but love; And by her fair immortal hand she swears, From his soft bosom never to remove, Till he take truce with her contending tears, Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all wet; And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt. Upon this promise did he raise his chin Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave, Who, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in; So offers he to give what she did crave; But when her lips were ready for his pay, He winks, and turns his lips another way. Never did passenger in summer's heat More thirst for drink than she for this good turn. Her help she sees, but help she cannot get; She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn: 'O! pity,' 'gan she cry, 'flint-hearted boy: 'Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy? 'I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now, Even by the stern and direful god of war, Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow, Who conquers where he comes in every jar; Yet hath he been my captive and my slave, And begg'd for that which thou unask'd shalt have. 'Over my altars hath he hung his lance, His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest, And for my sake hath learn'd to sport and dance, To toy, to wanton, dally, smile, and jest; Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red, Making my arms his field, his tent my bed. 'Thus he that overrul'd I oversway'd, Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain: Strong-temper'd steel his stronger strength obey'd, Yet was he servile to my coy disdain. O! be not proud, nor brag not of thy might, For mastering her that foil'd the god of fight. 'Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine, - Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red, - The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine: What seest thou in the ground? hold up thy head: Look in mine eyeballs, there thy beauty lies; Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes? 'Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow; Mine eyes are grey and bright, and quick in turning; My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow; My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning; My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt, Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt. 'Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, Or like a fairy trip upon the green, Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell'd hair, Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen: Love is a spirit all compact of fire, Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire. 'Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie; These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me; Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky, From morn till night, even where I list to sport me: Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee? 'Is thine own heart to thine own face affected? Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left? Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected, Steal thine own freedom, and complain on theft. Narcissus so himself himself forsook, And died to kiss his shadow in the brook. 'Art thou asham'd to kiss? then wink again, And I will wink; so shall the day seem night; Love keeps his revels where there are but twain; Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight: These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean Never can blab, nor know not what we mean. 'The tender spring upon thy tempting lip Shows thee unripe, yet mayst thou well be tasted. Make use of time, let not advantage slip; Beauty within itself should not be wasted: Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime Rot and consume themselves in little time. 'Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old, Ill-nurtur'd, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice, O'erworn, despised, rheumatic, and cold, Thick-sighted, barren, lean, and lackingjuice, Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee; But having no defects, why dost abhor me? 'Torches are made to light, jewels to wear, Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use, Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear; Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse: Seeds spring from seeds, and beauty breedeth beauty; Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty. 'Upon the earth's increase why shouldst thou feed, Unless the earth with thy increase be fed? By law of nature thou art bound to breed, That thine may live when thou thyself art dead; And so in spite of death thou dost survive, In that thy likeness still is left alive.' By this the love-sick queen began to sweat, For where they lay the shadow had forsook them, And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat, With burning eye did hotly overlook them; Wishing Adonis had his team to guide, So he were like him and by Venus' side. And now Adonis with a lazy spright, And with a heavy, da