Venus lamenting her lost Adonis

Wake, my Adonis, do not die,

One life's enough for thee and I;

Where are thy looks, thy wiles,

Thy fears, thy frowns, thy smiles?

Alas, in vain I call:

One death hath snatch'd them all:

Yet death's not deadly in that face,

Death in those looks itself hath grace.

'Twas this, 'twas this I feared

When thy pale ghost appear'd,

This I presag'd, when thundering Jove

Tore the best myrtle in my grove;

When my sick rosebuds lost their smell,

And from my temples untouch'd fell:

And was for some such thing

My dove first hung her wing.

Whither art thou, my Deity, gone?

Venus, in Venus there is none:

In vain a goddess now am I,

Only to grieve and not to die:

But I will love my grief,

Make tears my tears' relief,

And sorrow shall to me

A new Adonis be.

And this the Fates shan't rob me of whilst I

A goddess am to grieve, and not to die.