I weep for Adonais--he is dead!
Dead Adonais lies, and mourning all,
The Loves wail round his fair, low-lying head.
...
I to the sandy shore and seaward slope
Will go, and try with murmured song to bend
The cruel Galatea. My sweet hope
...
Bright Cypris! Goddess ever meek and mild,
Of mightiest Zeus and loveliest sea-nymph child,
Why with Immortals and our mortal kind
Art thou so wroth? What stung thy gentle mind
...
MYRSON. LYCIDAS.
MYRSON.
Will you, my Lycidas, now sing for me
A soothing sweet Sicilian melody-
...
CLEODAMUS. MYRSON.
CLEODAMUS.
What sweet for you has Summer or the Spring,
What joy does Autumn or the Winter bring?
...
Hunting the birds within a bosky grove,
A birder, yet a boy, saw winged Love
Perched on a box-tree branch; rejoicing saw
...
Happy is love or friendship when returned-
The lovers whose pure flames have equal burned.
Happy was Theseus, e'en in Tartarus,
...
I and the Loves Adonis dead deplore;
The beautiful Adonis is indeed
Departed, parted from us. Sleep no more
In purple, Cypris, but in watchet weed,
...
If sweet my songs, or these sufficient be
Which I have sung to give renown to me,
I know not; but it misbeseems to strain
At things we have not learned, and toil in vain.
...
Yourself to artists always to betake,
And on yourself in nothing to rely
Is misbeseeming. Friend! Your own pipe make-
...