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The Oil Cringe of the West: The Collected Essays and Reviews of J.B. Kelly Vol. 2
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Why the West is Best: A Muslim Apostate's Defense of Liberal Democracy
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Virgins? What Virgins?: And Other Essays
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These are all the Blogs posted on Monday, 14, 2011.
Monday, 14 February 2011
Muslim convert wife and children 'killed by abusive monster’

From The Telegraph

An “abusive monster” murdered his wife and their two young children before taking his own life, police believe. The bodies of Joy Small, 24, and the children were found in their flat the day after Aram Aziz, 32, was found dead at a beauty spot.

Friends of Miss Small yesterday described Mr Aziz as an “abusive monster” who had threatened to kill her previously and had once even poured petrol over her. Police said the family were known to them and it is understood Miss Small, who had converted to Islam and was an active internet campaigner on the rights of Muslims, had installed a panic button at her flat.

Jennie Bland, 27, a close friend, said: “She was a good person, and a fantastic mum. Her husband was extremely possessive. He would beat her all the time, and tried to stop her seeing her friends. He’d poured petrol over her, tried to set her alight, and thrown a mirror at their son. He was an abusive monster. He didn’t like me because I knew what he was like. . .

"She said she had a new boyfriend, but I had my suspicions she was back with him. In November, I found out she was, and we fell out. I couldn’t stand by and let it happen. She had been warned by police and social services that if she got back with him, they’d take her kids off her. I didn’t want that to happen but I wish I’d followed my instincts now and said something. If I had, she might still be alive.”

Miss Small was born in Sheffield and lived in Grimsby before settling in Leicester. She had an older son by her first marriage, to Javed Ghaznavi, 32.

Miss Small’s stepfather, Martin Small, who lives with her mother, Susan, in Northern Ireland, said: “We haven’t seen very much of Joy. She started living in a very Muslim area of Leicester and began living a Muslim life.”

As someone said elsewhere, domestic abuse and wicked people happen in all cultures and religions, but only Islam mandates  that a husband should beat and abuse his wife.

Posted on 02/14/2011 2:01 AM by Esmerelda Weatherwax
Monday, 14 February 2011
Islamic preacher evades ban at Oxford Union

From The Oxford Mail

An Islamic preacher who was banned from entering the UK has defied the Home Secretary’s exclusion order by addressing the Oxford Union.

Appearing at the debating society via video-link on Friday, Dr Zakir Naik said Home Secretary Theresa May’s decision was politically motivated. He said: “I am a man of justice and peace; I condemn all acts of terrorism and any wrong killing.”

If he condemns 'wrong' killing, then presumably he supports 'right' killing. Of apostates, for example. This is what he said about Mohamed Nazim who renounced Islam in front of him at a public meeting in the Maldives last year.

". . .   if the person who reverts who was a Muslim then converts to and becomes a non-Muslim and propagates his faith and speaks against Islam, and if it’s Islamic rule, then the person should be put to death."

I wonder what else he said to the students on Friday.

Posted on 02/14/2011 2:32 AM by Esmerelda Weatherwax
Monday, 14 February 2011
Cut It Out, Will You?

Headline in The Guardian today:

Silvio Berlusconi's Italy is on the wrong side of history

 

See here.

Posted on 02/14/2011 6:16 AM by Hugh Fitzgerald
Monday, 14 February 2011
Three Little Words (Re-Post)
Thursday, 14 February 2008
Three Little Words

One more time:

That today deserves special comment no one can deny. It is the day when three little words that mean so much to so many are on everyone’s lips, or at least on the lips of all the radio announcers, some uttering them slowly, with special emphasis on the middle word, the key word, the word that  gives the whole thing its ineffable meaning, while others read those three little words with quiet heartfelt dignity, as befits the occasion, and still others, realizing that the allotted time for their sentiment is limited, race through it so as to make sure they get the whole pitch in, as if they are transmitting a word from their sponsors, which in a sense they are, and so we have heard those three little words, so many hundreds of times, beginning a few days ago, and they have had their intended effect.

Special purchases are made specially for this special day, prompted by repetition of those three little words. What would Hallmark Cards, what would American Greetings -- which William Simon bought twenty years ago in a leveraged buyout, and then with a group of fellow investors took private --be worth, without those three little words, today? How would sales of boxes of chocolates fare, those chocolates no longer limited to the humble Fanny Farmer of my American youth, but now including all kinds of once-exotic entries, those gold-wrapped Ferrero Rocher, so often have stacked right near the checkout-counter, or further up the phylogenetic scale of cioccolatini, those kiss-mottoed silver-wrapped baci Perugina? Or even a bar of bitter dark chocolate, the kind that is now mentioned, along with long walks in Tuscany and biking on the Vineyard, by the person who is beautiful inside and out, who is equally at home in blue jeans and Dolce & Gabbana, who adores evenings out at Sushi Rok or Nobu or Bouley's, but also likes a bouillabaisse at home and just cuddling by the fire, in one of those personal ads by which in that advertisement-for-myself, that "ex-academic turned entrepreneur" with that charming smile and slender figure,  must collapse an entire universe of likes and dislikes, real or feigned, into a hundred or two hundred words of semaphoring to that not impossible he, that distant prince or cavalier, the one who has to have that indispensable  sense of humor, that  sense of mischievous fun, and as befits a sturdy prince,  is also "emotionally and financially secure.”

Someone might well ask what would happen, on this day, without those three little words? What would happen to all those flower markets in our great metropolises which receive, the night before, or even in the early morning of, St. Valentine’s Day, those roses, roses, roses all the way from Colombia or some other grower’s paradise in sunny South America, from which those roses, qui ce matin auraient dû déclos  or éclos–we’ll just have to let Ronsard’s transitive verb become intransitive, if you don’t mind  too terribly -- and having done so, are swiftly cut by dozens of workers, then stacked by the tens or even hundreds of thousands, and gathered, and wrapped en masse, and shipped by air to to the flower markets of the Colossus of the North, and once there, distributed to florists and grocery stores, where they are traditionally bought by men of all kinds for women of all kinds, especially wives and mothers and significant if-I-had-my-druthers, including that girl with the weapons-grade smile who has just started in your department –don’t deny it, you know exactly whom I mean.

The priest St. Valentin, Love’s Martyr, conducting his secret nuptials for those Roman couples, and Edmund Spenser, who in “The Faerie Queen” declares that “roses are red, violets are blue,” blended and then distilled over centuries. During those same centuries, until recently, the sentiments were taken from proverb lore and folk-sayings and nursery-rhymes. They were, in other words, plucked from the communal air. They were free, the legacy of everyone and no one, but not of someone. And when that blend of Spenser and St. Valentin at long last became the magic love potion, the potion that could transmute the base metal of sentimentality into the gold of paper money, we had what we have today: St. Valentine’s Day. 

But why should we complain? Where would we be without those mental-labor-saving-devices, those pre-fabricated sentiments– say, here’s one for $4.00, which is high but after all, it is a pop-up, and the punch-line is funny, amazing how those Chinese graphics have gotten so good -- - that spare us the effort of ringing changes on feeling, or having to find words to express feeling, and where would we be without those word-less carriers of meaning, those stuffed animals, potentially-picnicking teddy bears or curious-george monkeys, or cuddly lambs --see “The Semiotics of Sentiment” in  that well-known anthology edited by Jakobson, Eco, and Sebeok – such as this one right here from Rumania, and this other one from Bangladesh (thank god they’re not all manufactured in China) – carriers of meaning, wordless or with those pre-fabricated words, based on the tested belief that many will say “them’s my sentiments exactly” and let their cards do the talking,  all part of an industrial- strength holiday that is the St. Valentine’s Day we enjoy today. And if you can only hold on, and persuade your beloved to listen to a different drummer and wait until evening, then you can have a late-night, private St. Valentine’s Day because tonight, round about seven or eight or possibly nine, those cards and stuffed animals will go on sale, at 75% off.

The whole dizzying edifice, of flowers and cards and chocolates and Care Bears wearing ribbons depends on three little words, the words that have been ringing in your ears after those sussurations over several days by those whose duty it is to tell you what to think, and what to feel, and what to do about what you have been told to think and to feel, for the upcoming St. Valentine’s Day, that Day which has now, at long last, undeniably come.

Those Three Little Words?

You know already know them.

We all do.

Take the first word from the first three paragraphs above, and put them together.

That. Special. Someone.

What would this day be without those Three Little Words?

Posted on 02/14/2011 6:56 AM by Hugh Fitzgerald
Monday, 14 February 2011
U.N. Tries To Distance Itself From The White Hands Campaign

From Palestinian Media Watch, February 13, 2011

 

 

UN asks PMW to publicize

that UN was not behind

Arab media campaign  

presenting terrorist as role model

 

by Itamar Marcus and Nan Jacques Zilberdik


In response to Palestinian Media Watch's report on the Arab media campaign that presented terrorist Dalal Mughrabi as a role model for Arab women, and which listed UNFPA (United Nations Population Fund) as its partner and displayed its logo on the campaign's website, the UN has asked PMW to publicize that the UN was not involved in the campaign.  

Following PMW's exposure of a video from the campaign, UNFPA issued a press release "disavowing" its involvement in the campaign. Writing to PMW, the organization said that it "would appreciate any kind action you (PMW) take as a result of this information."

The press release stated that UNFPA "had no involvement in the selection of women profiled in the 'White Hands Campaign' of the Arab Producers' Union for TV (APUTV), and
[that UNFPA] has asked for its logo to be removed from the site."  

As role models for Arab women today, the White Hands Campaign chose to promote the terrorist Dalal Mughrabi, who lead the most lethal terror attack against Israel, killing dozens, and a 7th century poet, Al Khansa, famous for celebrating the Martyrdom deaths of her children.

Today, the White Hands Campaign's English website is no longer accessible, and the UNFPA logo no longer appears on the campaign's Arabic website as it did last week, when PMW reported on the campaign's video.

UNFPA added that the organization was "neither consulted nor involved in the selection of Arab women to be featured by the initiative, and it condemns any acts of violence that take the lives of innocent people. The Fund therefore disassociates itself from the campaign activities."

UNFPA further specified that the organization in 2008 had supplied the campaign's organizers with "information and data on reproductive health and youth issues," but that it "provided no funding."

Click to see PMW's report on the campaign honoring women famous for terror and Martyrdom as role models

The following is the email PMW received from UNFPA:

From: Abubakar Dungus

Dear Sir/Madam,
Please note the following statement from UNFPA on the subject of your post on the White Hands Campaign. Also note that the Campaign has removed our logo. Would appreciate any kind action you (PMW) take as a result of this information.

UNFPA Press Release
10 February 2011

UNFPA Disavows Involvement in Arab Media Campaign

UNITED NATIONS, New York-UNFPA, the United Nations Population Fund, had no involvement in the selection of women profiled in the "White Hands Campaign" of the Arab Producers' Union for TV (APUTV), and has asked for its logo to be removed from the site. In 2008, UNFPA provided APUTV with information and data on reproductive health and youth issues. It provided no funding. More importantly, UNFPA was neither consulted nor involved in the selection of Arab women to be featured by the initiative, and it condemns any acts of violence that take the lives of innocent people. The Fund therefore disassociates itself from the campaign activities.

APUTV works under the umbrella of the League of Arab States, and through the Arab Ministers Information Council. UNFPA provided information to the campaign based on its longstanding cooperation with the League of Arab States, and working within its mandate to advance maternal health, promote gender equality and support population and development strategies.
http://www.unfpa.org/public/home/news/pid/7250

The following is the transcript of the video honoring women famous for terror and Martyrdom as role models
that PMW exposed last week:



Text on screen:

"The Model Woman"

 

Host of TV program:

"Woman is the foundation of existence.

Love - Ishtar - the symbol of fertility and altruism.

(Ishtar - Babylonian goddess)

Willpower - Cleopatra - wit and wisdom.

(Cleopatra - Queen of Egypt)

Intelligence - Balqis [and] Zenobia - fighting.

(Queens of Sheba and Palmyra)

Resolve - Al Khansa - Martyrdom and giving.

(7th cent. poet who celebrated her four sons' deaths in battle)

Courage - Bint Al-Azwar - strong faith.

(7th cent. Arab poet who fought against the Byzantine Empire)

Martyrdom - Dalal Mughrabi - victory over enmity.

(led terror attack in which 37 Israeli civilians were killed)

Struggle - Djamila Bouhired - human freedom.

(Algerian terrorist who became a political activist)

Freedom, giving, patience, sacrifice, life, loyalty - "White Hands."

For her sake, for our sake, for the sake of a society aspiring towards giving - "White Hands" Campaign."

Text on screen:

"The largest media campaign to support women's issues."

[PA TV (Fatah), broadcast weekly Nov. - Dec., 2010]

Posted on 02/14/2011 8:04 AM by Hugh Fitzgerald
Monday, 14 February 2011
A Musical Interlude: Why Am I So Romantic? (Lillian Roth, Harpo Marx)

Listen here.

Posted on 02/14/2011 6:58 AM by Hugh Fitzgerald
Monday, 14 February 2011
Italy, Without EU Help, Tries To Halt Tidal Waves Of Tunisians

Visitors to this site have already read about it here (and here,). Yes, and also here.

From The BBC: .

Italy alerts EU amid Tunisia migrant influx

Migrants from Tunisia arrive on Lampedusa on crowded boat, 13 Feb 11 The influx from Tunisia is putting tiny Lampedusa's resources under severe strain

Italian authorities are struggling to cope with a crisis on the tiny island of Lampedusa after thousands of migrants arrived from Tunisia.

A holding centre designed for 850 people is reported to be overflowing.

Tunisia is refusing to let Italy deploy police on its territory.

More than 4,000 migrants are reported to have arrived on Lampedusa in the past few days. EU foreign policy chief Baroness Ashton is now in Tunis to discuss the issue. [the latest figure, as of yesteday, was 5,000]

Italy's Foreign Minister Franco Frattini is also expected in Tunis later on Monday.

He discussed the influx by phone with Lady Ashton and called for the EU border agency Frontex to get involved, to help patrol the waters off Lampedusa, Italy's La Repubblica newspaper reports.

On Saturday Italy declared a humanitarian emergency and called for EU assistance.

Map

A spokeswoman for the International Organisation of Migration, Simona Moscarelli, said Italy must fly migrants from Lampedusa to the Italian mainland as soon as possible.

"It's quite a critical situation. That's why we are asking the government to organise as many trips, as many flights as possible," she told the BBC's World Today programme, by phone from Lampedusa.

She described the migrants as "a mixed flow" - some were fleeing insecurity in Tunisia, following last month's uprising there, while others were seizing the chance to get to Europe to find work.

Tunisia turmoil

Tunisia's long-time President, Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali, quit amid a popular uprising later dubbed the Jasmine Revolution.

Frontex says it has not yet received an Italian request for help.

Analysis

The fear being shared from Rome to Brussels is that the influx of migrants into Italy becomes a tidal wave of people flowing into the EU.

Many of the French-speaking Tunisian migrants have already said they see Italy as a stepping stone to get them into France.

Italy's Foreign Minister, Franco Frattini, is trying to get the Tunisians to restore the sea patrols that existed before the revolution.

Italy has a similar arrangement with Libya, a deal which has drastically cut the numbers crossing from there in the past year or so.

But the policy has been criticised by human rights groups, who say it is unjust and even illegal.

Immigration has long been a divisive issue in Italy and the government wants to cut the numbers arriving from Tunisia quickly, before it becomes a broader problem.

In the past Frontex has helped Spain to stem a flow of African migrants to the Canary Islands and Frontex currently has a police team in Greece, to stop illegal migrants entering the EU from Turkey.

A Frontex spokeswoman told the BBC that "we are following the situation in Italy very closely and two staff members have gone to Italy over the weekend".

"We've run many joint operations in Italy in the past. The procedure depends on what type of request we have," she said.

Any Frontex deployment to Lampedusa would require days if not weeks of planning, as the EU member states would have to agree on their contributions to the mission, in terms of personnel and equipment.

Crowded boats

Italian officials said another 1,000 migrants arrived on Lampedusa on Sunday, bringing the total to more than 4,000. Most of the migrants are from Tunisia.

The small Sicilian island, which normally has a population of about 5,000 people, is closer to North Africa than the Italian mainland.

The migrants have arrived in small and overcrowded boats.

In Tunisia there have been strikes and clashes on the streets since the uprising, and many police officers have abandoned their posts, leaving what some describe as a state of lawlessness.

Italy's Interior Minister Roberto Maroni said on Sunday that Europe was not doing anything to help stop the flow of migrants and that he would request permission from Tunisia for Italian authorities to intervene.

A Tunisian government spokesperson, Tayeb Baccouche, dismissed the statement as "unacceptable", AFP news agency said.

In 2006-09 Frontex conducted patrols in the central Mediterranean, before Italy signed an agreement with Libya to block illegal migration to Europe.

In another operation, called Hermes, Frontex has conducted patrols south of Sardinia, to intercept Algerians and Tunisians trying to reach Europe.

Posted on 02/14/2011 7:29 AM by Hugh Fitzgerald
Monday, 14 February 2011
Concordia Discors In Cash-On-The-Barrelhead Capetown

JOHANNESBURG (AP) — A South African real estate company and the agency that invests for the government workers' pension fund are making a billion-dollar bid for Cape Town's famous V&A Waterfront shopping and hotel complex, the would-be buyers said Monday.

Rumors have circulated for months of the possible sale of the mall, known to tourists from around the world as the point from which the ferry to the Robben Island prison museum sets off. The mall is owned by the private equity arm of Dubai World, which has been hit hard by the global recession and needs cash to cover debts.

South African real estate firm Growthpoint and the Public Investment Corporation say the deal is worth just over 9.7 billion rand (about $1.3 billion).

The V&A is home to a One&Only hotel, Gucci, Armani and Hugo Boss shops, and an Aston Martin dealership. Tourists take the ferry from the mall to Robben Island to see the cell where former President Nelson Mandela spent 18 of his 27 years in prison.

Posted on 02/14/2011 8:20 AM by Hugh Fitzgerald
Monday, 14 February 2011
Wouldn't Ten Short As One, One Long As Twenty, Do?

Thai couples break World Record for longest kiss

Couples attempting to break the Guinness World Record for the longest continuous kiss are still standing after 33 hours.

Posted on 02/14/2011 8:34 AM by Hugh Fitzgerald
Monday, 14 February 2011
Three little words: that special offer

I remember once seeing a sign outside a tatty shop in a tatty bit of Holloway, north London: "Cheap Mother's Day Cards". What kind of a skinflint thinks, "Great, I'll save some money and my old Mum will never know"? Perhaps they did a bulk discount - buy thirty for a quid and they'll see her out.

Retailers are all heart, especially on that Special Day. As well as the usual fluffy pink stuff in the shops, there have been telly adverts - TV ads as you Americans probably call them - for cut price Valentine's Day ready meals. It is not clear, in these days of equal rights, who is to buy the meal and heat it up, but whether it's the man as hunter-gatherer or the woman as nurturerer, his or her "Special Someone" will have seen the adverts and know just how much of a bargain it is. From The Times:

Having realised what suckers we are for a damp sandwich, diet drink and fun-free yoghurt lunchtime meal deal, the supermarkets have applied the same value-bundling principle to the annual romantic dinner. I went to Tesco for ours. From a dedicated cabinet I was invited to select a pre-prepared main course, side dish, pudding and bottle of wine. There were between four and six choices in each category and the whole thing cost £15. The lack of starter struck me as odd. If you’re going to no trouble whatsoever to prepare a meal, couldn’t you at least go to no trouble over three courses? And what does skipping straight to the main course say to the light of your life? “Let’s get this over with, shall we? Glee starts at nine.”

 

Posted on 02/14/2011 8:21 AM by Mary Jackson
Monday, 14 February 2011
Cliché corner

If readers can tear themselves away from cooking (or heating up) dinner for That Special Someone, there are two very unromantic-sounding documentaries this evening. The first is Channel 4's Dispatches programme on abuse in Muslim schools, which Esmerelda posted about here. The second is from the BBC, which asks with typical hyperbole: Is Geert Wilders Europe's Most Dangerous Man? This would be the same Geert Wilders who is under 24-hour protection and has never once advocated violence:

A profile of controversial Dutch politician Geert Wilders. The man with the shock of platinum blond hair is known for virulent anti-Islamic views which led to his being denied entry into Britain until he successfully appealed against the ban. The film follows him on the campaign trail during the 2010 Dutch general election. The leader of the Party for Freedom, now on the brink of real power in the Netherlands, Wilders is the first politician to stand trial on charges of inciting hatred because of his pronouncements on Islam and his call for a ban on the Qur'an. With anti-Islamic and anti-immigration parties on the rise in Europe, what makes him the poster boy of the far right? Members of the international anti-Islamic network who support him are also interviewed about their leader in this documentary by Bafta-winning filmmakers Mags Gavan and Joost van der Valk.

"Platinum blond", "poster boy", "far right"? Change the record.

Posted on 02/14/2011 8:41 AM by Mary Jackson
Monday, 14 February 2011
A Literary Interlude: Venus And Adonis (William Shakespeare)

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLEY,

EARL OF SOUHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHFIELD.

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 burthen: 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 prove 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 tried him to the chase;
Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn; . . 4
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, . . 8
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. . 12

'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 shalt thou know: . . . . 16
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, . . . . 20
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.' . . .24

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: . . .28
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, . . . . . . 32
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. . . . . 36

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: . . . . . 40
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: . . . 44
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.' . .48

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: . . . . 52
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, . .56
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. . . . . .60

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; . . .64
Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers
So they were dewd with such distilling showers.

Look! how a bird lies tangled in a net,
So fasten'd in her arms Adonis lies; . . . . . .68
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. . . . 72


Still she entreats, and prettily entreats,
For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale;
Still is he sullen, still he lours and frets,
'Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy-pale; . . . . 76
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, . . . . 80
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 . . . . .85
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; . . . . 88
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. . 92
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? . . . .96

'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 m every jar; . . . . 100
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, . . .104
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. . . .108

'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. . . . . . 112
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 falr lips of thine,--
Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red,-- . .116
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? . 120

'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: . . . 124
These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean
Never can blab, nor know not what we mean.

'The tender spring upon thy tempting lip . . . . 127
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. . . .132

'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 lacking juice, . .136
Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee;
But having no defects, why dost abhor me?

'Thou canst not see one winkle in my brow; . . . 139
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. . . 144

'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: . . .148
Love is a spirit all compact of fire,
Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.

'Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie; . . . 151
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? . . 156
.
'Is thine own heart to shine 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. . .160
Narcissus so himself himself forsook,
And died to kiss his shadow in the brook.

'Torches are made to light, jewels to wear,
Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use, . . .164
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. . . . .168

'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; . .172
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, . .176
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. . . . .180

And now Adonis with a lazy spright,
And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye,
His louring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight,
Like misty vapours when they blot the sky, . . . 184
Souring his cheeks, cries, 'Fie! no more of love:
The sun doth burn my face; I must remove.'

'Ay me,' quoth Venus, 'young, and so unkind!
What bare excuses mak'st thou to be gone! . . . .188
I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind
Shall cool the heat of this descending sun:
I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs; . . . 191
If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears.

'The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm,
And lo! I lie between that sun and thee:
The heat I have from thence doth little harm,
Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me; . .196
And were I not immortal, life were done
Between this heavenly and earthly sun.

'Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel?
Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth: .200
Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel
What 'tis to love? how want of love tormenteth?
O! had thy mother borne so hard a mind, . . . .203
She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind.


'What am I that thou shouldst contemn me this?
Or what great danger dwells upon my suit?
What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss?
Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be mute:
Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again, . . .209
And one for interest if thou wilt have twain.

'Fie! lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone,
Well-painted idol, image dull and dead, . . . . 212
Statue contenting but the eye alone,
Thing like a man, but of no woman bred:
Thou art no man, though of a man's complexion,
For men will kiss even by their own direction.' . 216

This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
And swelling passion doth provoke a pause;
Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong;
Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause: . 220
And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak,
And now her sobs do her intendments break.

Sometimes she shakes her head, and then his hand;
Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground; . . . .224
Sometimes her arms infold him like a band:
She would, he will not in her arms be bound;
And when from thence he struggles to be gone,
She locks her lily fingers one in one. . . . . 228

'Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here
Within the circuit of this ivory pale,
I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: . . 232
Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

'Within this limit is relief enough,
Sweet bottom-grass and high delightful plain, . . 236
Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough,
To shelter thee from tempest and from rain:
Then be my deer, since I am such a park; . . . 239
No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand bark.'

At this Adonis smiles as in disdain,
That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple:
Love made those hollows, if himself were slain,
He might be buried in a tomb so simple; . . . . 244
Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie,
Why, there Love liv'd, and there he could not die.

These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits,
Open'd their mouths to swallow Venus' liking. . . 248
Being mad before, how doth she now for wits?
Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking?
Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn,
To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn! . .252

Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say?
Her words are done, her woes the more increasing;
The time is spent, her object will away,
And from her twining arms doth urge releasing: . . 256
'Pity,' she cries; 'some favour, some remorse!'
Away he springs, and hasteth to his horse.

But lo! from forth a copse that neighbours by,
A breeding jennet, lusty, young, and proud, . . . 260
Adonis' tramping courier doth espy,
And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud:
The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree,
Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he. . 264

Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,
And now his woven girths he breaks asunder;
The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds,
Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thunder;
The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth, . . .269
Controlling what he was controlled with.

His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane
Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end; . . . 272
His nostrils drink the air, and forth again,
As from a furnace, vapours doth he send:
His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire,
Shows his hot courage and his high desire. . . .276

Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps,
With gentle majesty and modest pride;
Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps,
As who should say, 'Lo! thus my strength is tried;
And this I do to captivate the eye . . . . . 281
Of the fair breeder that is standing by.'

What recketh he his rider's angry stir,
His flattering 'Holla', or his 'Stand, I say'? . . 284
What cares he now for curb or pricking spur?
For rich caparisons or trapping gay?
He sees his love, and nothing else he sees,
Nor nothing else with his proud sight agrees. . .288

Look, when a painter would surpass the life,
In limning out a well-proportion'd steed,
His art with nature's workmanship at strife,
As if the dead the living should exceed; . . . . 292
So did this horse excel a common one,
In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone.

Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,
Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide,
High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide:
Look, what a horse should have he did not lack,
Save a proud rider on so proud a back. . . . . 300

Sometimes he scuds far off, and there he stares;
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather;
To bid the wind a base he now prepares,
And whe'r he run or fly they know not whether; . . 304
For through his mane and tail the high wind sings,
Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings.

He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her;
She answers him as if she knew his mind; . . . . 308
Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her,
She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind,
Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels,
Beating his kind embracements with her heels. . .312

Then, like a melancholy malcontent,
He vails his tail, that, like a falling plume,
Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent:
He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume. . 316
His love, perceiving how he is enrag'd,
Grew kinder, and his fury was assuag'd.

His testy master goeth about to take him;
When lo! the unback'd breeder, full of fear, . . .320
Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him,
With her the horse, and left Adonis there:
As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them,
Outstripping crows that strive to overfly them. . 324

All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits,
Banning his boisterous and unruly beast:
And now the happy season once more fits,
That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest; . . 328
For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong
When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.

An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd,
Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage: . . .332
So of concealed sorrow may be said;
Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage;
But when the heart's attorney once is mute
The client breaks, as desperate in his suit. . . 336

He sees her coming, and begins to glow,-- . .
Even as a dying coal revives with wind,--
And with his bonnet hides his angry brow;
Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind, . . .340
Taking no notice that she is so nigh, . . .
For all askance he holds her in his eye.

O! what a sight it was, wistly to view
How she came stealing to the wayward boy; . . . .344
To note the fighting conflict of her hue,
How white and red each other did destroy:
But now her cheek was pale, and by and by
It flash'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky. 348

Now was she just before him as he sat,
And like a lowly lover down she kneels;
With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat,
Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels: . . . 352
His tenderer cheek receives her soft hand's print,
As apt as new-fall'n snow takes any dint.

O! what a war of looks was then between them;
Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing; . . . . 356
His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them;
Her eyes woo'd still, his eyes disdain'd the wooing:
And all this dumb play had his acts made plain
With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain.

Full gently now she takes him by the hand, . . . 361
A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow,
Or ivory in an alabaster band;
So white a friend engirts so white a foe: . . . .364
This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,
Show'd like two silver doves that sit a-billing.

Once more the engine of her thoughts began:
'O fairest mover on this mortal round, . . . . .368
Would thou wert as I am, and I a man,
My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound;
For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee,
Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee.'

'Give me my hand,' saith he, 'why dost thou feel it?'
'Give me my heart,' saith she, 'and thou shalt have it;
O! give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it,
And being steel'd, soft sighs can never grave it: . 376
Then love's deep groans I never shall regard,
Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard.'

'For shame,' he cries, 'let go, and let me go;
My day's delight is past, my horse is gone, . . . 380
And 'tis your fault I am bereft him so:
I pray you hence, and leave me here alone:
For all my mind, my thought, my busy care,
Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.' . . . 384

Thus she replies: 'Thy palfrey, as he should,
Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire:
Affection is a coal that must be cool'd;
Else, suffer'd, it will set the heart on fire: . . 388
The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none;
Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone.

'How like a Jade he stood, tied to the tree,
Servilely master'd with a leathern rein! . . . . 392
But when he saw his love, his youth's fair fee,
He held such petty bondage in disdain;
Throwing the base thong from his bending crest,
Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast. . 396

'Who sees his true-love in her naked bed,
Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white,
But, when his glutton eye so full hath fed,
His other agents aim at like delight? . . . . . 400
Who is so faint, that dare not bo so bold
To touch the fire, the weather being cold?

'Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy;
And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee, . . . 404
To take advantage on presented joy
Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee.
O learn to love, the lesson is but plain,
And once made perfect, never lost again. . . . 408

'I know not love,' quoth he, 'nor will not know it,
Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it;
'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it;
My love to love is love but to disgrace it; . . . 412
For I have heard it is a life in death,
That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath.

'Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd?
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth? . . 416
If springing things be any jot diminish'd,
They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth;
The colt that's back'd and burden'd being young
Loseth his pride, and never waxeth strong. . . .420

'You hurt my hand with wringing Iet us part,
And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat:
Remove your siege from my unyielding heart;
To love's alarms it will not ope the gate: . . . 424
Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery;
For where a heart is hard they make no battery.'

'What! canst thou talk?' quoth she, 'hast thou a tongue?
O! would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing; . . 428
Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong;
I had my load before, now press'd with bearing:
Melodious discord, heavenly tune, harsh-sounding,
Ear's deep-sweet music, and heart's deep-sore wounding.

'Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love . . . 433
That inward beauty and invisible;
Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move
Each part in me that were but sensible: . . . . 436
Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,
Yet should I be in love by touching thee.

'Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me,
And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, . . 440
And nothing but the very smell were left me,
Yet would my love to thee be still as much;
For from the stillitory of thy face excelling
Comes breath perfum'd that breedeth love by smelling.

'But O! what banquet wert thou to the taste, . . .445
Being nurse and feeder of the other four;
Would they not wish the feast might ever last,
And bid Suspicion double-lock the door,
Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,
Should, by his stealing in, disturb the feast?' . 448

Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd,
Which to his speech did honey passage yield, . . .452
Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd
Wrack to the seaman, tempest to the field,
Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,
Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds. . .456

This ill presage advisedly she marketh:
Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth,
Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh,
Or as the berry breaks before it staineth, . . . 460
Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,
His meaning struck her ere his words begun.

And at his look she flatly falleth down
For looks kill love, and love by looks reviveth; . 464
A smile recures the wounding of a frown;
But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth!
The silly boy, believing she is dead
Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red; 468

And all amaz'd brake off his late intent,
For sharply he did think to reprehend her,
Which cunning love did wittily prevent: . . . .
Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her! . . 472
For on the grass she lies as she were slain
Till his breath breatheth life in her again.

He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks,
He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard, . . .476
He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks
To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr'd:
He kisses her; and she, by her good will,
Will never rise, so he will kiss her still. . . 480

The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day:
Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth,
Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array
He cheers the morn, and all the world relieveth: . 484
And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,
So is her face illumin'd with her eye;

Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd,
As if from thence they borrow'd all their shine. . 488
Were never four such lamps together mix'd,
Had not his clouded with his brow's repine;
But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light
Shone like the moon in water seen by night. . . 492

'O! where am I?' quoth she, 'in earth or heaven,
Or in the ocean drench'd, or in the fire?
What hour is this? or morn or weary even?
Do I delight to die, or life desire? . . . . . 496
But now I liv'd, and life was death's annoy;
But now I died, and death was lively joy.

'O! thou didst kill me; kill me once again:
Thy eyes' shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine, . 500
Hath taught them scornful tricks, and such disdain,
That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine;
And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen,
But for thy piteous lips no more had seen. . . .504

'Long may they kiss each other for this cure!
O! never let their crimson liveries wear;
And as they last, their verdure still endure,
To drive infection from the dangerous year: . . . 508
That the star-gazers, having writ on death,
May say, the plague is banish'd by thy breath.

'Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted,
What bargains may I make, still to be sealing? . . 512
To sell myself I can be well contented,
So thou wilt buy and pay and use good dealing;
Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips
Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lips. . . . .516

'A thousand kisses buys my heart from me;
And pay them at thy leisure, one by one.
What is ten hundred touches unto thee?
Are they not quickly told and quickly gone? . . . 520
Say, for non-payment that the debt should double,
Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?'

'Fair queen,' quoth he, 'if any love you owe me,
Measure my strangeness with my unripe years: . . .524
Before I know myself, seek not to know me;
No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears:
The mellow plum doth fall, the green sticks fast,
Or being early pluck'd is sour to taste. . . . 528

'Look! the world's comforter, with weary gait
His day's hot task hath ended in the west;
The owl, night's herald, shrieks, 'tis very late;
The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest, . 532
And coal-black clouds that shadow heaven's light
Do summon us to part, and bid good night.

'Now let me say good night, and so say you;
If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.' . . . 536
'Good night,' quoth she; and ere he says adieu,
The honey fee of parting tender'd is:
Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace;
Incorporate then they seem, face grows to face. . 540

Till, breathless, he disjoin'd, and backward drew
The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth,
Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew,
Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drouth: . . 544
He with her plenty press'd, she faint with dearth,
Their lips together glu'd, fall to the earth.

Now quick desire hath caught the yielding prey,
And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth; . . 548
Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey,
Paying what ransom the insulter willeth;
Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high,
That she will draw his lips' rich treasure dry. . 552

And having felt the sweetness of the spoil,
With blindfold fury she begins to forage;
Her face doth reek and smoke, her blood doth boil,
And careless lust stirs up a desperate courage; . .556
Planting oblivion, beating reason back,
Forgetting shame's pure blush and honour's wrack.

Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard embracing,
Like a wild bird being tam'd with too much handling,
Or as the fleet-foot roe that's tir'd with chasing, 561
Or like the froward infant still'd with dandling,
He now obeys, and now no more resisteth,
While she takes all she can, not all she listeth. 564

What wax so frozen but dissolves with tempering,
And yields at last to every light impression?
Things out of hope are compass'd oft with venturing,
Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission: . 568
Affection faints not like a pale-fac'd coward,
But then woos best when most his choice is froward.

When he did frown, O! had she then gave over,
Such nectar from his lips she had not suck'd. . . 572
Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover;
What though the rose have prickles, yet 'tis pluck'd:
Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast,
Yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.

For pity now she can no more detain him; . . . . 577
The poor fool prays her that he may depart:
She is resolv'd no longer to restrain him,
Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart, . . 580
The which, by Cupid's bow she doth protest,
He carries thence incaged in his breast.

'Sweet boy,' she says, 'this night I'll waste in sorrow,
For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch. . . 584
Tell me, Love's master, shall we meet to-morrow
Say, shall we? shall we? wilt thou make the match?'
He tells her, no; to-morrow he intends
To hunt the boar with certain of his friends. . .588

'The boar!' quoth she; whereat a sudden pale,
Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose,
Usurps her cheeks, she trembles at his tale,
And on his neck her yoking arms she throws: . . . 592
She sinketh down, still hanging by his neck,
He on her belly falls, she on her back.

Now is she in the very lists of love,
Her champion mounted for the hot encounter: . . . 596
All is imaginary she doth prove,
He will not manage her, although he mount her;
That worse than Tantalus' is her annoy,
To clip Elysium and to lack her joy. . . . . .600

Even as poor birds, deceiv'd with painted grapes,
Do surfeit by the eye and pine the maw,
Even so she languisheth in her mishaps,
As those poor birds that helpless berries saw. . . 604
The warm effects which she in him finds missing,
She seeks to kindle with continual kissing.

But all in vain, good queen, it will not be:
She hath assay'd as much as may be prov'd; . . . 608
Her pleading hath deserv'd a greater fee; . .
She's Love, she loves, and yet she is not lov'd.
'Fie, fie!' he says, 'you crush me; let me go;
You have no reason to withhold me so.' . . . . 612

'Thou hadst been gone,' quoth she, 'sweet boy, ere this,
But that thou told'st me thou wouldst hunt the boar.
O! be advis'd; thou know'st not what it is
With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore, . . 616
Whose tushes never sheath'd he whetteth still,
Like to a mortal butcher, bent to kill.

'On his bow-back he hath a battle set
Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes; . . .620
His eyes like glow-worms shine when he doth fret;
His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes;
Being mov'd, he strikes whate'er is in his way,
And whom he strikes his crooked tushes slay. . . 624

'His brawny sides, with hairy bristles arm'd,
Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter;
His short thick neck cannot be easily harm'd;
Being ireful, on the lion he will venture: . . . 628
The thorny brambles and embracing bushes,
As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes.

'Alas! he nought esteems that face of thine,
To which Love's eyes pay tributary gazes; . . . .632
Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips, and crystal eyne,
Whose full perfection all the world amazes;
But having thee at vantage, wondrous dread!
Would root these beauties as he roots the mead.

'O! let him keep his loathsome cabin still; . . . 637
Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends:
Come not within his danger by thy will;
They that thrive well take counsel of their friends.
When thou didst name the boar, not to dissemble,
I fear'd thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.

'Didst thou not mark my face? was it not white?
Saw'st thou not signs of fear lurk in mine eye? . .644
Grew I not faint? And fell I not downright?
Within my bosom, whereon thou dost lie,
My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest,
But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast.

'For where Love reigns, disturbing Jealousy . . . 649
Doth call himself Affection's sentinel;
Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny,
And in a peaceful hour doth cry "Kill, kill!" . . 652
Distempering gentle Love in his desire,
As air and water do abate the fire.

'This sour informer, this bate-breeding spy,
This canker that eats up Love's tender spring, . . 656
This carry-tale, dissentious Jealousy,
That sometime true news, sometime false doth bring,
Knocks at my heart, and whispers in mine ear
That if I love thee, I thy death should fear: . .660

'And more than so, presenteth to mine eye
The picture of an angry-chafing boar,
Under whose sharp fangs on his back doth lie
An image like thyself, all stain'd with gore; . . 664
Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed
Doth make them droop with grief and hang the head.

'What should I do, seeing thee so indeed,
That tremble at the imagination? . . . . . . .668
The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed,
And fear doth teach it divination:
I prophesy thy death, my living sorrow,
If thou encounter with the boar to-morrow. . . .672

'But if thou needs wilt hunt, be rul'd by me;
Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,
Or at the fox which lives by subtilty,
Or at the roe which no encounter dare: . . . . .676
Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs,
And on thy well-breath'd horse keep with thy hound.

'And when thou hast on foot the purblind hare,
Mark the poor wretch, to overshoot his troubles . .680
How he outruns the winds, and with what care
He cranks and crosses with a thousand doubles:
The many musits through the which he goes
Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes. . . . .684

'Sometime he runs among a flock of sheep,
To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell,
And sometime where earth-delving conies keep,
To stop the loud pursuers in their yell, . . . . 688
And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer;
Danger deviseth shifts, wit waits on fear:

'For there his smell with others being mingled, . .691
The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt,
Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled
With much ado the cold fault cleanly out;
Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies,
As if another chase were in the skies. . . . . 696

'By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,
Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear,
To hearken if his foes pursue him still:
Anon their loud alarums he doth hear; . . . . . 700
And now his grief may be compared well
To one sore sick that hears the passing bell.

'Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch
Turn, and return, indenting with the way; . . . .704
Each envious briar his weary legs doth scratch,
Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay:
For misery is trodden on by many,
And being low never reliev'd by any. . . . . .708

'Lie quietly, and hear a little more;
Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise:
To make thee hate the hunting of the boar,
Unlike myself thou hear'st me moralize, . . . . 712
Applying this to that, and so to so;
For love can comment upon every woe.

'Where did I leave?' 'No matter where,' quoth he
'Leave me, and then the story aptly ends: . . . .716
The night is spent,' 'Why, what of that?' quoth she.
'I am,' quoth he, 'expected of my friends;
And now 'tis dark, and going I shall fall.'
'In night,' quoth she, 'desire sees best of all.' 720

But if thou fall, O! then imagine this,
The earth, in love with thee, thy footing trips,
And all is but to rob thee of a kiss. . . . . . 723
Rich preys make true men thieves; so do thy lips
Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn,
Lest she should steal a kiss and die forsworn.

'Now of this dark night I perceive the reason: . .
Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine . . . 728
Till forging Nature be condemn'd of treason,
For stealing moulds from heaven that were divine;
Wherein she fram'd thee in high heaven's despite,
To shame the sun by day and her by night. . . . 732

'And therefore hath she brib'd the Destinies,
To cross the curious workmanship of nature
To mingle beauty with infirmities,
And pure perfection with impure defeature; . . . 736
Making it subject to the tyranny
Of mad mischances and much misery;

'As burning fevers, agues pale and faint,
Life-poisoning pestilence and frenzies wood, . . .740
The marrow-eating sickness, whose attains
Disorder breeds by heating of the blood;
Surfeits, imposthumes, grief, and damn'd despair,
Swear nature's death for framing thee so fair. . 744

'And not the least of all these maladies
But in one minute's fight brings beauty under:
Both favour, savour hue, and qualities,
Whereat the impartial gazer late did wonder, . . .748
Are on the sudden wasted, thaw'd and done,
As mountain-snow melts with the mid-day sun.

'Therefore, despite of fruitless chastity,
Love-lacking vestals and self-loving nuns, . . . 752
That on the earth would breed a scarcity
And barren dearth of daughters and of sons,
Be prodigal: the lamp that burns by night
Dries up his oil to lend the world his light. . .756

'What is thy body but a swallowing grave,
Seeming to bury that posterity
Which by the rights of time thou needs must have,
If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity? . . . 760
If so, the world will hold thee in disdain,
Sith in thy pride so fair a hope is slain.


'So in thyself thyself art made away;
A mischief worse than civil home-bred strife, . . 764
Or theirs whose desperate hands themselves do slay,
Or butcher-sire that reeves his son of life.
Foul-cankering rust the hidden treasure frets,
But gold that's put to use more gold begets.' . .768

'Nay then,' quoth Adon, 'you will fall again
Into your idle over-handled theme;
The kiss I gave you is bestow'd in vain,
And all in vain you strive against the stream; . . 772
For by this black-fac'd night, desire's foul nurse,
Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse.

'If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues,
And every tongue more moving than your own, . . . 776
Bewitching like the wanton mermaid's songs,
Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown;
For know, my heart stands armed in mine ear,
And will not let a false sound enter there; . . 780

'Lest the deceiving harmony should run
Into the quiet closure of my breast;
And then my little heart were quite undone,
In his bedchamber to be barr'd of rest. . . . . 784
No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan,
But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone.

'What have you urg'd that I cannot reprove? . . .
The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger; . . 790
I hate not love, but your device in love
That lends embracements unto every stranger.
You do it for increase: O strange excuse!
When reason is the bawd to lust's abuse. . . . 792

'Call it not, love, for Love to heaven is fled,
Since sweating Lust on earth usurp'd his name;
Under whose simple semblance he hath fed
Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame; . . . 796
Which the hot tyrant stains and soon bereaves,
As caterpillars do the tender leaves.

'Love comforteth like sunshine after rain,
But Lust's effect is tempest after sun; . . . . 800
Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain,
Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done.
Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies;
Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies. . . 804

'More I could tell, but more I dare not say;
The text is old, the orator too green.
Therefore, in sadness, now I will away;
My face is full of shame, my heart of teen: . . . 808
Mine ears, that to your wanton talk attended
Do burn themselves for having so offended.'

With this he breaketh from the sweet embrace . . .811
Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast,
And homeward through the dark laund runs apace; . .
Leaves Love upon her back deeply distress'd.
Look, how a bright star shooteth from the sky
So glides he in the night from Venus' eye; . . .816

Which after him she darts, as one on shore
Gazing upon a late-embarked friend,
Till the wild waves will have him seen no more,
Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend: . . 820
So did the merciless and pitchy night
Fold in the object that did feed her sight.

Whereat amaz'd, as one that unaware
Hath dropp'd a precious jewel in the flood, . . . 824
Or 'stonish'd as night-wanderers often are,
Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood;
Even so confounded in the dark she lay,
Having lost the fair discovery of her way. . . .828

And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans,
That all the neighbour caves, as seeming troubled,
Make verbal repetition of her moans;
Passion on passion deeply is redoubled: . . . . 832
'Ay me!' she cries, and twenty times, 'Woe, woe!'
And twenty echoes twenty times cry so.

She marking them, begins a wailing note,
And sings extemporally a woeful ditty; . . . . .836
How love makes young men thrall and old men dote;
How love is wise in folly foolish-witty:
Her heavy anthem stili concludes in woe,
And still the choir of echoes answer so. . . . 840

Her song was tedious, and outwore the night,
For lovers' hours are long, though seeming short:
If pleas'd themselves, others, they think, delight
In such like circumstance, with such like sport: . 844
Their copious stories, oftentimes begun,
End without audience, and are never done.

For who hath she to spend the night withal,
But idle sounds resembling parasites; . . . . . 848
Like shrill-tongu'd tapsters answering every call,
Soothing the humour of fantastic wits?
She says, "Tis so:' they answer all, "Tis so;'
And would say after her, if she said 'No'. . . .852
. .
Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,
And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast
The sun ariseth in his majesty; . . . . . . . 856
Who doth the world so gloriously behold,
That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold.

Venus salutes him with this fair good morrow:
'O thou clear god, and patron of all light, . . . 860
From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow
The beauteous influence that makes him bright,
There lives a son that suck'd an earthly mother,
May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other'

This said, she hasteth to a myrtle grove, . . . .865
Musing the morning is so much o'erworn,
And yet she hears no tidings of her love;
She hearkens for his hounds and for his horn: . . 868
Anon she hears them chant it lustily,
And all in haste she coasteth to the cry.

And as she runs, the bushes in the way
Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face, . .872
Some twine about her thigh to make her stay:
She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace,
Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ache,
Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake. . . 876

By this she hears the hounds are at a bay;
Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder
Wreath'd up in fatal folds just in his way,
The fear whereof doth make him shake and shudder;
Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds . . .881
Appals her senses, and her spirit confounds.

For now she knows it is no gentle chase,
But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud, . . 884
Because the cry remaineth in one place,
Wilere fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud:
Finding their enemy to be so curst,
They all strain courtesy who shall cope him first.

This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear, . . . . 889
Througll which it enters to surprise her heart;
Who, overcome by doubt and bloodless fear,
With cold-pale weakness numbs each feeling part;
Like soldiers, when their captain once doth yield,
They basely fly and dare not stay the field.

Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy,
Till, cheering up her senses sore dismay'd, . . . 896
She tells them 'tis a causeless fantasy,
And childish error, that they are afraid;
Bids them leave quaking, bids them fear no more:
And with that word she spied the hunted boar;

Whose frothy mouth bepainted all with red, . . . 901
Like milk and blood being mingled both together,
A second fear through all her sinews spread,
Which madly hurries her she knows not whither: . . 904
This way she runs, and now she will no further,
But back retires to rate the boar for murther.

A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways,
She treads the path that she untreads again; . . .908
Her more than haste is mated with delays,
Like the proceedings of a drunken brain,
Full of respects, yet nought at all respecting,
In hand with all things, nought at all effecting.

Here kennel'd in a brake she finds a hound, . . . 9l3
And asks the weary caitiff for his master,
And there another licking of his wound,
Gainst venom'd sores the only sovereign plaster; . 916
And here she meets another sadly scowling,
To whom she speaks, and he replies with howling.

When he hath ceas'd his ill-resounding noise,
Another flap-mouth'd mourner, black and grim, . . 920
Against the welkin volleys out his voice;
Another and another answer him,
Clapping their proud tails to the ground below,
Shaking their scratch'd ears, bleeding as they go.

Look, how the world's poor people are amaz'd . . .925
At apparitions, signs, and prodigies,
Whereon with fearful eyes they long have gaz'd,
Infusing them with dreadful prophecies; . . . . 928
So she at these sad sighs draws up her breath,
And, sighing it again, exclaims on Death.

'Hard-favour'd tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean, . . . 931
Hateful divorce of love,'--thus chides she Death,--
'Grim-grinning ghost, earth's worm, what dost thou mean
To stifle beauty and to steal his breath,
Who when he liv'd, his breath and beauty set
Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet? . . . .936

'If he be dead, O no! it cannot be,
Seeing his beauty, thou shouldst strike at it;
O yes! it may; thou hast no eyes to see,
But hatefully at random dost thou hit. . . . . .940
Thy mark is feeble age, but thy false dart
Mistakes that aim and cleaves an infant's heart.

'Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke,
And, hearing him, thy power had lost his power. . .944
The Destinies will curse thee for this stroke;
They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluck'st a flower.
Love's golden arrow at him shoull have fled,
And not Death's ebon dart, to strike him dead. . 948

'Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok'st such weeping?
What may a heavy groan advantage thee?
Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping
Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see? . . 952
Now Nature cares not for thy mortal vigour
Since her best work is ruin'd with thy rigour.'

Here overcome, as one full of despair,
She vail'd her eyelids, who, like sluices, stopp'd .956
The crystal tide that from her two cheeks fair
In the sweet channel of her bosom dropp'd
But through the flood-gates breaks the silver rain,
And with his strong course opens them again. . . 960

O! how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow;
Her eyes seen in the tears, tears in her eye;
Both crystals, where they view'd each other's sorrow,
Sorrow that friendly sighs sought still to dry; . .964
But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain,
Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again.

Variable passions throng her constant woe,
As striving who should best become her grief; . . 968
All entertain'd, each passion labours so,
That every present sorrow seemeth chief,
But none is best; then join they all together,
Like many clouds consulting for foul weather. . . 972

By this, far off she hears some huntsman holloa;
A nurse's song no'er pleas'd her babe so well:
The dire imagination she did follow
This sound of hope doth labour to expel; . . . . 976
For now reviving joy bids her rejoice,
And flatters her it is Adonis' voice.

Whereat her tears began to turn their tide,
Being prison'd in her eye, like pearls in glass; . 980
Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside,
Which her cheek melts, as scorning it should pass
To wash the foul face of the sluttish ground,
Who is but drunken when she seemeth drown'd.

O hard-believing love! how strange it seems . . . 985
Not to believe, and yet too credulous;
Thy weal and woe are both of them extremes;
Despair and hope make thee ridiculous: . . . . .988
The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely,
In likely thoughts the other kills thee quickly.

Now she unweaves the web that she hath wrought,
Adonis lives, and Death is not to blame; . . . . 992
It was not she that call'd him all to naught,
Now she adds honours to his hateful name;
She clepes him king of graves, and grave for kings,
Imperious supreme of all mortal things. . . . .996

'No, no,' quoth she, 'sweet Death, I did but jest;
Yet pardon me, I felt a kind of fear
Whenas I met the boar, that bloody beast,
Which knows no pity, but is still severe; . . . 1000
Then, gentle shadow,--truth I must confess--
I rail'd on thee, fearing my love's decease.

'Tis not my fault: the boar provok'd my tongue;
Be wreak'd on him, invisible commander; . . . . 1004
'Tis he, foul creature, that hath done thee wrong;
I did but act, he 's author of my slander:
Grief hath two tongues: and never woman yet,
Could rule them both without ten women's wit.'

Thus hoping that Adonis is alive, . . . . . . 1009
Her rash suspect sile doth extenuate;
And that his beauty may the better thrive,
With Death she humbly doth insinuate; . . . . .1012
Tells him of trophies, statues, tombs; and stories
His victories, his triumphs, and his glories.

'O Jove!' quoth she, 'how much a fool was I,
To be of such a weak and silly mind . . . . . 1016
To wail his death who lives and must not die
Till mutual overthrow of mortal kind;
For he being dead, with him is beauty slain,
And, beauty dead, black chaos comes again. . . 1020

'Fie, fie, fond love! thou art so full of fear
As one with treasure laden, hemm'd with thieves
Trifles, unwitnessed with eye or ear,
Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves.' . 1024
Even at this word she hears a merry horn
Whereat she leaps that was but late forlorn.

As falcon to the lure, away she flies;
The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light; . 1028
And in her haste unfortunately spies
The foul boar's conquest on her fair delight;
Which seen, her eyes, as murder'd with the view,
Like stars asham'd of day, themselves withdrew:

Or, as the snail, whose tender horns being hit, . 1033
Shrinks backwards in his shelly cave with pain,
And there, all smother'd up, in shade doth sit,
Long after fearing to creep forth again; . . . .1036
So, at his bloody view, her eyes are fled
Into the deep dark cabills of her head;

Where they resign their office and their light . .
To the disposing of her troubled brain; . . . . 1040
Who bids them still consort with ugly night,
And never wound the heart with looks again;
Who, like a king perplexed in his throne,
By their suggestion gives a deadly groan, . . .1044

Whereat each tributary subject quakes;
As when the wind, imprison'd in the ground,
Struggling for passage, earth's foundation shakes,
Which with cold terror doth men's minds confound.
This mutiny each part doth so surprise . . . .l049
That from their dark beds once more leap her eyes;

And, being open'd, threw unwilling light
Upon the wide wound that the boar had trench'd
In his soft flank; whose wonted lily white . . . 1053
With purple tears, that his wound wept, was drench'd:
No flower was nigh, no grass, herb, leaf, or weed
But stole his blood and seem'd with him to bleed.

This solemn sympathy poor Venus noteth, . . . . 1057
Over one shoulder doth she hang her head,
Dumbly she passions, franticly she doteth;
She thinks he could not die, he is not dead: . . 1060
Her voice is stopp'd, her joints forget to bow,
Her eyes are mad that they have wept till now.

Upon his hurt she looks so steadfastly,
That her sight dazzling makes the wound seem three;
And then she reprehends her mangling eye, . . . 1065
That makes more gashes where no breach should be:
His face seems twain, each several limb is doubled;
For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.

'My tongue cannot express my grief for one, . . .1069
And yet,' quoth she, 'behold two Adons dead!
My sighs are blown away, my salt tears gone,
Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead: . 1072
Heavy heart's lead, melt at mine eyes' red fire!
So shall I die by drops of hot desire.

'Alas! poor world, what treasure hast thou lost!
What face remains alive that's worth the viewing?
Whose tongue is music now? what canst thou boast
Of things long since, or anything ensuing? . . . 1078
The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh and trim;
But true-sweet beauty liv'd and died with him.

'Bonnet nor veil henceforth no creature wear! . . 1081
Nor sun nor wind will ever strive to kiss you:
Having no fair to lose, you need not fear;
The sun doth scorn you, and the wind doth hiss you:
But when Adonis liv'd, sun and sharp air . . . 1085
Lurk'd like two thieves, to rob him of his fair:

'And therefore would he put his bonnet on,
Under whose brim the gaudy sun would peep; . . . 1088
The wind would blow it off, and, being gone,
Play with his locks: then would Adonis weep;
And straight, in pity of his tender years,
They both would strive who first should dry his tears.

'To see his face the lion walk'd along . . . . 1093
Behind some hedge, because he would not fear him;
To recreate himself when he hath sung,
The tiger would be tame and gently hear him; . . 1096
If he had spoke, the wolf would leave his prey,
And never fright the silly lamb that day.

'When he beheld his shadow in the brook,
The fishes spread on it their golden gills; . . .1100
When he was by, the birds such pleasure took,
That some would sing, some other in their bills
Would bring him mulberries and ripe-red cherries
He fed them with his sight, they him with berries.

'But this foul, grim, and urchin-spouted boar, . .1105
Whose downward eye still looketh for a grave,
Ne'er saw the beauteous livery that he wore;
Witness the entertainment that he gave: . . . . 1108
If he did see his face, why then I know
He thought to kiss him, and hath killed him so.

''Tis true, 'tis true; thus was Adonis slain:
He ran upon the boar with his sharp spear, . . . 1112
Who did not whet his teeth at him again,
But by a kiss thought to persuade him there;
And nuzzling in his flank, the loving swine
Sheath'd unaware the tusk in his soft groin. . .1116

'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.' . . . 1120
With this she falleth in the place she stood,
And stains her face with his congealed blood.

Sho looks upon his lips, and they are pale;
She takes him by the hand, and that is cold; . . 1124
She whispers in his ears a heavy tale,
As if they heard the woeful words she told;
She lifts the coffer-lids that close his eyes,
Where, lo! two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies;

Two glasses where herself herself beheld . . . .1129
A thousand times, and now no more reflect;
Their virtue lost, wherein they late excell'd,
And every beauty robb'd of his effect: . . . . 1132
'Wonder of time,' quoth she, 'this is my spite,
That, you being dead, the day should yet be light.

'Since thou art dead, lo! here I prophesy,
Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend: . . . . 1136
It shall be waited on with jealousy,
Find sweet beginning, but unsavoury end;
Ne'er settled equally, but high or low;
That all love's pleasure shall not match his woe.

'It shall be fickle, false, and full of fraud, . .1141
Bud and be blastod in a breathing-while;
The bottom poison, and the top o'erstraw'd
With sweets that shall the truest sight beguile: . 1144
The strongest body shall it make most weak,
Strike the wise dumb and teach the fool to speak.

'It shall be sparing and too full of riot,
Teaching decrepit age to tread the measures; . . 1148
The staring ruffian shall it keep in quiet,
Pluck down the rich, enrich the poor with treasures;
It shall be raging mad, and silly mild,
Make the young old, the old become a child. . . 1152

'It shall suspect where is no cause of fear;
It shall not fear where it should most mistrust;
It shall be merciful, and too severe,
And most deceiving when it seems most just; . . .1156
Perverse it shall be, where it shows most toward,
Put fear to velour, courage to the coward.

'It shall be cause of war and dire events,
And set dissension 'twixt the son and sire; . . .1160
Subject and servile to all discontents,
As dry combustious matter is to fire:
Sith in his prime Death doth my love destroy,
They that love best their love shall not enjoy.' 1164

By this, the boy that by her side lay kill'd
Was melted like a vapour from her sight,
And in his blood that on the ground lay spill'd,
A purple flower sprung up, chequer'd with white; . 1168
Resembling well his pale cheeks, and the blood
Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood.

She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell,
Comparing it to her Adonis' breath; . . . . . 1172
And says within her bosom it shall dwell,
Since he himself is reft from her by death:
She drops the stalk, and in the breach appears
Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears.

'Poor flower,' quoth she, 'this was thy father's guise,
Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire,
For every little grief to wet his eyes:
To grow unto himself was his desire, . . . . . 1180
And so 'tis shine; but know, it is as good
To wither in my breast as in his blood.

'Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast;
Thou art the next of blood, and 'tis thy right: . 1184
Lo! in this hollow cradle take thy rest,
My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night:
There shall not be one minute in an hour
Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower.'

Thus weary of the world, away she hies, . . . . 1189
And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid
Their mistress, mounted, through the empty skies
In her light chariot quickly is convey'd; . . . 1192
Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen
Means to immure herself and not be seen.

Posted on 02/14/2011 9:22 AM by Hugh Fitzgerald
Monday, 14 February 2011
Love, And All The Saints Called Valentine

Another of our big Feasts is upon us and this one is a day of love and laughter and romancing and wooing and chocolates and fine dining and flowers and pretty things. The lay celebration in its present form isn’t a Feast founded in the earliest days of our Faith, but I say all of our frisking and gambolling is an addition to the Feast and grounded in the very spirit of our Faith – the spirit of love and the natural pairings of us humans sanctified by our beliefs. Our frolics on this day may not have the justification of having been invented by the Fathers of our Faith but I think, nevertheless, that what we have invented in the loving fun of this Spring day is something good in the sight of God.

The Feast of St. Valentine was first established in AD496 by Pope Gelasius I (reigned AD492-496), who included St. Valentine among those "... whose names are justly reverenced among men, but whose acts are known only to God." As Pope Gelasius implied, nothing was known, even then, about the lives of any of these Martyrs. The Saint Valentine that appears in various Martyrologies in connection with February 14th. is described either as a Priest in Rome, a Bishop of Interamna (modern Terni), or a Martyr in the Roman province of Africa and really he could be any of up to fourteen of the early Martyrs of Christianity named Valentine.

However, which of the many Saints Valentine we commemorate on this day is quite irrelevant to the customs that have grown up around this Feast. It is traditionally a day on which lovers express their love for each other by presenting flowers, offering chocolate, and sending greeting cards (known as ‘valentines’). The day first became associated with romantic love amongst the readers of Geoffrey Chaucer’s (1343-1400) works in the High Middle Ages, when the tradition of courtly love flourished. There is absolutely no evidence that any of the Sts. Valentine were connected with these traditions, or indeed that these traditions actually existed before Chaucer wrote about them in his work ‘Parlement of Foules’ (1382) and associated them with this particular Feast.

The Legenda Aurea1 of Jacobus de Voragine, compiled about 1260, makes absolutely no mention of any traditions to do with lovers and romance when discussing St. Valentine and naturally makes no mention whatsoever of the eighteenth century faked history of the Saint wherein he is said to have sent the first 'valentine' to his gaoler's daughter. The much earlier compilations of Abbreviatio in gestis et miraculis sanctorum of the Dominican chronicler Jean de Mailly and the Epilogus in gestis sanctorum of the Dominican preacher Bartholomew of Trent also make absolutely no mentions whatsoever of any links between any of the Sts. Valentine and courtship traditions.

Professor Jack Oruch of the University of Kansas argues that prior to Chaucer, no links between any of the Saints named Valentinus (Valentine) and romantic love existed. Some people have tried to make a link with the Ancient Roman festival of Lupercalia but Pope Gelasius abolished this pagan festival during his reign and there is absolutely no evidence that it persisted in any form into, never mind through, the Middle Ages. There is a tendency amongst detractors of Christianity to say that Christian Feasts were cunningly substituted for pagan festivals in order to make conversion of the great bulk of the people easier but that assertion simply doesn’t stand up to academic scrutiny and has long since been abandoned by intelligent people.

The first recorded association of St. Valentine's Day with romantic love is, as I wrote above, in ‘Parlement of Foules’ by Chaucer. He wrote:

For this was on seynt Volantynys day

Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.

(‘For this was Saint Valentine's Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate.’)

This work was written to honour the first anniversary of the engagement of King Richard II of England to Anne of Bohemia. A treaty providing for a marriage was signed on May 2nd. 1381. Many people uncritically assume that Chaucer was referring to February 14th. as Valentine's Day; however, mid-February is an unlikely time for birds to be mating in England. Henry Ansgar Kelly2 has pointed out that in the liturgical calendar, May 2 is the Saint’s day for St. Valentine of Genoa. This St. Valentine was an early Bishop of Genoa who died around AD 307 (a bit later than many of the other Sts. Valentine).

Chaucer's ‘Parlement of Foules’ is set in the fictional context of a fictional old tradition, as in fact there was no such tradition before Chaucer’s genius invented it. The speculative explanation that our modern sentimental customs are born from ancient historical facts has its origins among fanciful 18th. Century antiquaries, notably Alban Butler, the author of Butler’s Lives of the Saints, and has been perpetuated even by respectable modern scholars who should know better.

There is a tradition that Spring begins on St. Valentine's Day, and in some parts of England that work by Chaucer has penetrated the collective mind of the people so much that it used to be believed that birds chose their mates on this day which some called 'the Birds' Wedding Day'.

Charmingly, in many a village in England tokens representing the unwedded boys and girls were wrapped in mud and put into bowls of water and drawn out in pairs as the mud dissolved and they bobbed to the surface or were revealed. Each couple thus paired exchanged gifts. The girl became the boy's valentine for the season until Mayday and he wore a heart shape with her token in it pinned to his sleeve (hence the expression ‘to wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve3). Stranger still, some people believed that the first unmarried man an unmarried woman saw on February 14th. would become her husband.

In many parts of Europe, including England, tangible items such as wooden love spoons were carved and given as gifts on February 14th. Keys and keyholes and locks mixed with hearts and twined with ribbons were commonly used to decorate the spoons and other objects and they symbolically meant, 'you have the key to my heart and only you can unlock it and keep it safe'.

I'm told by a reliable source that there was also a superstition along the lines of a woman seeing a robin on Valentine’s Day would believe she would marry a sailor, if she saw a sparrow that meant she would marry a poor man and if she saw a goldfinch, she would marry a wealthy man.

Interestingly, the earliest surviving valentine is a 15th-century rondeau written by Charles, Duke of Orleans to his wife, which starts:

Je suis desja d'amour tanné

Ma tres doulce Valentinée...

(Charles, Duc d'Orléans, Rondeau VI, lines 1–2)

At the time, the Duke was being held in the Tower of London following his capture at the Battle of Agincourt in 1415.

Of course St. Valentine's Day gets a mention in Shakespeare in ‘Hamlet’4, and John Donne5 used the device of the marriage of the birds as the starting point for his ‘Epithalamion’. The trite verse about ‘roses red’ echoes rhymes that can be traced as far back as Edmund Spenser's epic ‘The Faerie Queene’ (1590):

She bath'd with roses red, and violets blew,

And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew.

The modern, slightly clichéd St. Valentine's Day poem about roses and violets can be found in the collection of English nursery rhymes called Gammer Gurton's Garland (1784):

The rose is red, the violet's blue

The honey's sweet, and so are you

Thou are my love and I am thine

I drew thee to my Valentine

The lot was cast and then I drew

And Fortune said it shou'd be you.

Celebrating St. Valentine's Day as a day for lovers is not universal. In Wales, for example, many people celebrate Dydd Santes Dwynwen (St. Dwynwen's Day) on January 25th. instead of (or as well as) St. Valentine's Day. The day commemorates St. Dwynwen, the patron Saint of Welsh lovers. In Catalonia in Spain St. Valentine’s Day has been largely superseded by similar festivities on La Diada de Sant Jordi (Saint George's Day).

In Finland St. Valentine's Day is called Ystävänpäivä which translates into ‘Friends’ Day’. As the name indicates, this day is more about remembering all your friends, not only your loved ones. In Estonia Valentine's Day is called Sõbrapäev, which has the same meaning. In Slovenia, a proverb states ‘St. Valentine brings the keys to the roots’, so on February 14th. the plants, vines and flowers start to grow and St. Valentine's Day is celebrated as the day when the first work in the vineyards and the fields starts rather than as a festival of love.

For many English Christians the day of love was traditionally March 12, which used to be Saint Gregory the Great's Day (more about that some other time) until it was moved to the 3rd. of September in order to avoid Lent during which the Western Churches have no obligatory memorials6. Many English Christians still choose to remember, and communicate with, their friends on March 12th.

In Romania the traditional holiday for lovers is Dragobete, which is celebrated on February 24th.

Surprisingly, in deeply Christian and Catholic Brazil St. Valentine’s Day isn’t celebrated at all and the Dia dos Namorados (literally ‘Day of the Enamoured’) is celebrated on June 12 when couples exchange gifts, chocolates, cards and flowers instead. This day was chosen probably because it is the day before the Festa Junina which starts on Saint Anthony's Day – St. Anthony of Padua (or Lisbon), that is – known there as the marriage Saint, when traditionally many single women perform popular rituals, called simpatias, in order to find a good husband or boyfriend.

I have been told that according to Jewish tradition the 15th day of the month of Av – Tu B'Av (usually late August) is the festival of love. Apparently, in ancient times girls would wear white dresses and dance in the vineyards where the boys would be waiting for them (Mishna Taanith end of Chapter 4). I am informed that in modern Israeli culture this is a popular day to pronounce love, propose marriage and give gifts like cards or flowers. If I have this wrong then I hope that one of our Jewish readers will correct me.

As for all the other little customs that we indulge in on St. Valentine’s Day then I’m sure that you know them as well as I.

Don’t forget, however, that we owe our current freedoms to love whom we choose to all those Saints and Martyrs of the past who started our ancestors out on the road to this fantastic thing that we call Western civilisation. Spare them, especially those called Valentine, a thought or a prayer as you woo your loved one today.

 

1) A modern English translation of the ‘Golden Legend’ has been published by William Granger Ryan, ISBN 0-691-00153-7 and ISBN 0-691-00154-5 (2 volumes). The critical edition of the Latin text has been edited by Giovanni Paolo Maggioni, Florence, S.I.S.M.E.L. (Societa Internazionale per lo Studio del Medioevo Latino), 1998.

2) Kelly, Henry Ansgar, ‘Chaucer and the Cult of Saint Valentine’, Brill Academic Publishers, 1997, ISBN 90-04-07849-5. Kelly erroneously gives the Saint's day of the Genoese Bishop St. Valentine as May 3 and also believes that Richard's engagement was probably announced on that day also.

3) The earliest recorded use of this expression is supposedly in Shakespeare’s ‘Othello’, Act 1, Scene 1, 56-65: ‘But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve/For daws to peck at’ – the ‘daws’ are jackdaws. Obviously the expression was well known and understood by the time Shakespeare used it.

4) ‘Hamlet’, Act 4, Scene 5, 48-55: ‘To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,/All in the morning betime,/And I a maid at your window,/To be your Valentine./Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes,/And dupp'd the chamber-door;/Let in the maid, that out a maid/Never departed more’.

5) John Donne (1572-1631) liked the idea of the marriage of the birds and he used it as the starting point for his Epithalamion which celebrates the marriage of Elizabeth, daughter of James I and VI of England and Scotland, and Frederick V, Elector Palatine on Valentine's Day. He also writes of Bishop Valentine but that may simply be his fancy rather than a reference to some belief at the time: ‘Hayle Bishop Valentine whose day this is/All the Ayre is thy Diocese/And all the chirping Queristers/And other birds ar thy parishioners/Thou marryest every yeare/The Lyrick Lark, and the graue whispering Doue,/The Sparrow that neglects his life for loue,/The houshold bird with the redd stomacher/Thou makst the Blackbird speede as soone,/As doth the Goldfinch, or the Halcyon/The Husband Cock lookes out and soone is spedd/And meets his wife, which brings her feather-bed./This day more cheerfully than ever shine/This day which might inflame thy selfe old Valentine’.

6) Celebrations of Feast days are ranked according to their importance and called 'Solemnities', 'Feasts', or 'Memorials'. Memorials are usually not celebrated if they occur on a Solemnity, a Feast, a Sunday, Ash Wednesday, Holy Week, in the second half of Advent, or in the Octave of Easter. A full explanation of this rather arcane point can be found by clicking on this link.

Posted on 02/14/2011 9:52 AM by John M. Joyce
Monday, 14 February 2011
TONIGHT - Channel Four Dispatches - must watch

A reminder for our UK readers. You don't want to watch Eastenders or University Challenge at 8pm tonight, you want to watch Channel Four Dispatches: Lessons in Hate and Violence. The team who brought us Undercover Mosque investigate what is taught and how the children are treated in some of Britain's Islamic schools.    

The programme hasn't even aired yet and already the police have arrested a man in Keighley. According to the BBC

A man has been arrested in connection with alleged incidents of assault at a mosque in Keighley. Police said it followed the release of secret footage filmed at the Markazi Jamia Mosque, due to be aired on the Channel 4 Dispatches programme tonight. 

A West Yorkshire Police statement said: "We have recently become aware of a number of incidents of alleged assault at a mosque in the Keighley area and just before the weekend we were able to view edited footage of the alleged incident. One man has been arrested in connection with the incidents and has been released on police bail pending further enquiries. West Yorkshire Police are receiving full co-operation from the Keighley Muslim Association who are working with us in support of the inquiry." 

Meanwhile in Birmingham, according to The Birmingham Mail

A BIRMINGHAM Islamic school at the centre of a documentary row will close on Tuesday amid safety fears.

Teachers at the Darul Uloom Islamic High School, in Small Heath, have held meetings with police chiefs and fear that youngsters could be targeted by the far right. The Dispatches documentary, Lessons in Hatred and Violence, is due to air on Channel 4 tonight and will show footage of a preacher making offensive remarks about Hindus and ranting: “Disbelievers are the worst creatures”.

But teachers at the school insist the undercover reporter captured an isolated incident where a 17-year-old senior student was talking to pupils. They have provided a letter which shows that he was expelled for his views last August

The school’s head of curriculum Mujahid Aziz said the decision had been to bring forward the school’s half-term by a week after meetings with police. Pupils will today be told not to return to classes until the start of March. 

“Our concern now is for the safety of children and people coming to the mosque because we are worried that some people will get completely the wrong impression once they have watched this programme.  After meeting with the police, we are bringing the half-term forward and we have been advised that there should be plenty of staff around on Monday night as a precaution.”

HT/EDLforum                                                                          

Posted on 02/14/2011 10:23 AM by Esmerelda Weatherwax
Monday, 14 February 2011
7/7 inquests: gang ringleader tried to convert schoolboy to Islam

From The Telegraph

The leader of the July 7 bombers tried to convert a boy under his care to Islam, the inquest into the bombings has heard.

Mohammed Sidique Khan was working as a learning mentor in a primary school in Beeston, Leeds when he took the pupil under his wing. The inquest was told about the background of the bombers and how they became radicalised for the first time, starting with Sidique Khan. He was said to be well liked at Hillside Primary School by parents, staff and pupils and was described as “almost like a father” to those from broken homes.

“One pupil became quite close to him and Khan would take him around to his associates and try to interest him in the Muslim faith,” Hugo Keith QC, counsel for the inquest said.

Acting Det Insp Peter Sparks explained how the young man was taken to the Iqra bookshop in Beeston, which Sidique Khan and others used as somewhere to sell Islamic literature, use computers and talk about Islam. “Khan had tried to persuade [the pupil] on numerous occasions to convert to Islam,” DI Sparks said.

The inquest heard later that the child was as young as 11 or 12 when he was told “people will pay for what has been done to Pakistan” along with comments about September 11 during a conversation in Sidique Khan’s car.

Gareth Paterson, representing some of the bereaved families, said Sidique Khan was mentoring children with behavioural problems. “Children described as disaffected children, in a sense, vulnerable children,” he added. He was said to have no formal qualifications for the job but had been working with young people from July 1997.

On another occasion Sidique Khan was asked if he could arrange a speaker for the school to talk about the Koran, but the man talked with such “fervour” that the other staff became concerned.

But his brother, Mohammed, has told police that Sidique Khan spoke to him at length about which schools of Islam he should follow – in particular al-Muhajiroun, an extremist group led by preacher Omar Bakri Mohammed, now living in Lebanon, and associated with Abu Hamza, serving a jail sentence for incitement to murder.

The other bombers – Jermaine Lindsay and Hasib Hussain, who both met Sidique Khan when still in their teens – showed signs of radicalism while still at school.

Lindsay was “trying to convert pupils with great enthusiasm and vigour” at school in Huddersfield, West Yorkshire, and got in trouble for distributing leaflets supporting al-Qaeda and Osama bin Laden. He told friends he wanted to join the British Army so that he could kill his fellow soldiers, the inquest heard.

Hussain wrote on a piece of paper to fellow pupils after September 11 “You’re next” and referred to al-Qaeda in an exercise book by which he had drawn a picture of an aeroplane crashing into the Twin Towers in New York.

Posted on 02/14/2011 1:10 PM by Esmerelda Weatherwax
Monday, 14 February 2011
Right Fractures Over Islam

  Byron Tau writes at Politico:

While a gay rights controversy drew headlines at this year’s Conservative Political Action Conference, another — and even more bitter — dispute rippled as views varied widely on how to reconcile the conservative movement with Islam in the United States.

At the 38th annual conservative gathering, there was no shortage of accusations of Islamist sympathies, Muslim Brotherhood infiltration and charges of fear-mongering. Republican presidential hopefuls, including Newt Gingrich and John Thune, also drew applause with suggestions that the Obama administration has taken a politically correct blind eye to the connection between radical Islam and terrorism.

Freshman Rep. Allen West also drew thunderous applause in his keynote speech about the threat to America posed by Islam and other security threats. And as Republican candidates define their national security stands in the 2012 elections, conservative discomfort with Islam in America will be a feature of the debate.

“We are also faced at home and abroad with a mortal threat in political Islam,” conservative activist David Horowitz said in his address to the conference. “Political Islam is a totalitarian movement that seeks to impose Islamic law on the entire world through the seizure of states by stealth and electoral means where possible and by terror where necessary and sometimes by a combination of the two. There are hundreds of millions of believers in political Islam.”

CPAC organizers held an official panel on the threat of sharia law, with several other affiliated, but unofficial, events on inclusion, religious liberty and the so-called ground zero mosque controversy, featuring the controversial blogger Pam Geller and Jihad Watch’s Robert Spencer.

“Sometimes when you hear snide comments about Jews in the ’50s or Muslims today — we’ve been through this. The Republican party chased away the Catholic vote for over a hundred years,” said Grover Norquist, an ACU board member and a tax activist who has tried to bring Muslim voters in to the GOP for more than a decade. “You chase away people politically. The thing about the political effects of bigotry — it can last generations. It’s tough to fix.”

“The answer is some people are and some people aren’t,” Norquist later told POLITICO in response to a question about whether Republicans were making an effort to court Muslim voters. “Certainly, Chris Christie in New Jersey is. George W. Bush was.”

Bush’s outreach to the Muslim community netted him the single largest share of the Muslim vote in 2000, but nearly all Muslim voters drifted back toward Obama in 2008. Relations between the GOP and the Muslim community reached an all-time low when many prominent members of the GOP took public stands against the building of a mosque in Lower Manhattan.

The tensions broke most clearly to the surface in a small panel on religious freedom sponsored by the group Muslims for America and moderated by the American Conservative Union’s only Muslim board member. The discussion was interrupted several times by attendees questioning the moderator, Suhail Khan, about radical ties and sympathies.

Khan faced repeated and hostile questions about his ties and his parents ties to the Muslim Brotherhood, as a handful attendees with video cameras and recording devices crowded the rear of the room to pressed him on the terror issues.

“These are smear tactics that have circulated against me for the last 10 years,” said Khan, responding to audience questions by a participant about alleged ties to radical organizations — ties that Khan has ferociously denied, pointing to his service in the Bush administration and his security background vetting by the Department of Justice and the Secret Service for those sensitive political positions.

“My record is clear,” said Khan to the audience. “Pam Geller, Robert Spencer — they’re not part of the conservative movement. Everywhere they turn, the conservative movement is turning their back on them.”
“These are passed-over and warmed-over stale attacks that go back 10 years,” Khan told POLITICO. “I was elected by the ACU membership. I was the highest vote-getter in a popular election. I am confident that the ACU rejects these baseless charges.”

 

At a well-attended Friday event paid for and sponsored by Geller and Spencer, accusations that the conservative conference has been infiltrated by the Muslim Brotherhood were tossed around with abandon — and concerns about Islam itself as a faith were openly voiced by both audience members and panelists.

“For 10 years, people have been asking for moderate Muslims to speak up,” said Spencer. “We’re going to be waiting for those guys until doomsday.” 

“Moderate Muslims don’t exist,” said one audience member at the Geller and Spencer event. “Muslims are not able to be moderate — or they are speaking against what is written in the Koran.”

Geller herself attacked CPAC and its organizers — the American Conservative Union, calling for the ouster of several ACU executives.

“This is the problem with CPAC. It’s corrupted and compromised by the Muslim Brotherhood,” Geller told the audience at her panel, saying CPAC’s leaders were either “clueless or complicit” to the threat posed by Islamists.

“There are 12,000 people who come to this event who don’t know they’ve been sold out by CPAC leadership,” said Geller, who said that the event had been taken over by Ron Paul supporters — as well as Islamists. “We have to take CPAC back.”

And at yet another well-attended panel on the threat of sharia law to the West, the prominent critic of Islam, the Somali-born Ayaan Hirsi Ali, was greeted with rapturous applause as she retold her story of life in an Islamic country.

Sharia, said Ali, “is a creed of death. You can defeat it only with a creed of life.”

“One of the things we have to do is not let sharia creep into our own legal system,” said Jim Woolsey, former CIA director under President Bill Clinton.

All three events are part of a larger debate within the conservative movement over how the GOP should tackle Islam — a topic that several CPAC speakers compared to the party’s poor treatment of Catholic voters for several generations.

“Unfortunately, there are some voices on the fringe who are very strident in their belief that Muslim-Americans are not part the American community,” said Khan. “Many Muslims feel that the Republican party is not welcoming because of the harsh rhetoric of a few.”

Khan called the concerns over sharia a complete “canard” but insisted that CPAC is about bringing conservatives together to have an honest discussion.

“It’s like when a little kid learned a dirty word and just keeps repeating it,” said Khan about the sharia. “It was ‘Wahhabi’ a few years ago.”

“The Republican party is continually missing allies,” said Jennifer Bryson, an expert in Islamic studies with the Witherspoon Institute. Bryson argued that many young Muslims do not feel particularly welcome by the GOP even as they share many of the party’s core political and social values.

“The conclusion I came to last year was that the American public is not ready for an honest conversation,” said Mohamed Elibiary, a Department of Homeland Security adviser and Dallas-based community activist. “The discourse right now is just throwing mud back and forth.”

Geller seemed to disagree that the broader argument was about religion or faith at all.

“Religion or no religion — you can worship a stone, just don’t stone me with it,” said Geller in closing her panel.

Posted on 02/14/2011 2:08 PM by Rebecca Bynum
Monday, 14 February 2011
A Musical Interlude: Isn't It Romantic? (Carroll Gibbons & Savoy Hotel Orpheans)

Listen here.

Posted on 02/14/2011 4:25 PM by Hugh Fitzgerald
Monday, 14 February 2011
Tunisians Flee Tunisia Because "Italy For Us Is Paradise"

Read the story, watch the video, and enjoy many of  the French readers who commented on the story,  at lefigaro.fr.

Posted on 02/14/2011 8:32 PM by Hugh Fitzgerald

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