Why, the old woman's quite oracular.
But women must know everything; ev'n what Juno
Wore on her wedding-day. See now, Praxinoe,
PRAX.
Give me your hand, dear Gorgo; and do you
Hold fast of Eutychis's, Eunoe.
Don't let her go; don't stir an inch; and so
We'll all squeeze in together. Stick close now.
Oh me! oh me! my veil's torn right in two!
Do take care, my good man, and mind my cloak.
MAN. 'Twas not my fault; but I'll take care.
What heaps!
Courage, old girl! all's safe.
PRAX. Blessings upon you, sir, now and for ever,
For taking care of us-A good, kind soul.
How Eunoe squeezes us! Do, child, make way
For your own self. There; now, we've all got in,
As the man said, when he was put in prison.
GORGO. Praxinoe, do look there! What lovely tapestry! How fine and showy! One would think the gods did it. PRAX. Holy Minerva! how those artists work!
How they do paint their pictures to the life!
The figures stand so like, and move so like!
They're quite alive, not work'd. Well, certainly,
Man's a wise creature. See now—only look—
See-lying on the silver couch, all budding,
With the young down about his face! Adonis!
Charming Adonis-charming ev'n in Acheron !
SECOND MAN. Do hold your tongues there; chatter, chatter,
chatter.
The turtles stun one with their yawning gabble.
GORGO. Hey-day! Whence comes the man? What is't
tongue's Peloponnesiac; and we hope lawful for the Dorians to speak Doric!
PRAX. We've but one master, by the Honey-sweet! * don't fear you, nor all your empty blows.
GORGO. Hush, hush, Praxinoe!—there's the Grecian girl,
ost amazing creature, going to sing
ut Adonis; she that sings so well
song of Sperchis: she'll sing something fine, arrant.-See how sweetly she prepares!
O Lady, who dost take delight
In Golgos and the Erycian height,
And in the Idalian dell,
Venus, ever amiable;
Lo, the long-expected Hours,
Slowest of the blessed powers,
Yet who bring us something ever,
Ceasing their soft dancing never,
Bring thee back thy beauteous one
From perennial Acheron.
Thou, they say, from earth hast given
Berenice place in heaven,
Dropping to her woman's heart
Ambrosia; and for this kind part,
Berenice's daughter-she
That's Helen-like-Arsinoe,
O thou many-named and shrin'd,
Is to thy Adonis kind.
He has all the fruits that now
Hang upon the timely bough:
* An epithet applied by the Sicilians to Proserpine.
He has green young garden-plots,
Basketed in silver pots ;
Syrian scents in alabaster,
And whate'er a curious taster
Could desire, that women make
With oil or honey, of meal cake;
And all shapes of beast or bird,
In the woods by huntsman stirr'd ;
And a bower to shade his state
Heap'd with dill, an amber weight;
And about him Cupids flying,
Like young nightingales, that trying
Their new wings-go half afraid,
Here and there, within the shade.
See the gold! The ebony see!
And the eagles in ivory,
Bearing the young Trojan up
To be filler of Jove's cup;
And the tapestry's purple heap,
Softer than the feel of sleep;
Artists, contradict who can,
Samian or Milesian.
But another couch there is
For Adonis, close to his ;
Venus has it, and with joy
Clasps again her blooming boy
With a kiss that feels no fret,
For his lips are downy yet.
Happy with her love be she;
But to-morrow morn will we,
With our locks and garments flowing,
And our bosoms gently showing,
Come and take him, in a throng,
To the sea-shore, with this song:-
Go, belov'd Adonis, go
For Atrides; nor the great
Ajax, chief infuriate;
Nor for Hector, noblest once
Of his mother's twenty sons;
Nor Patroclus, nor the boy
That returned from taken Troy ;
Nor those older buried bones,
Lapiths and Deucalions;
Nor Pelopians, and their boldest;
Nor Pelasgians, Greece's oldest.
Bless us then, Adonis dear,
And bring us joy another year;
Dearly hast thou come again,
And dearly shalt be welcomed then.
GORGO. Well; if that's not a clever creature, trust me!
ord! what a quantity of things she knows!
nd what a charming voice !-'Tis time to go, though,
or there's my husband hasn't had his dinner,
nd you'd best come across him when he wants it! ood-by, Adonis, darling. Come again.
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