LIKE the Idalian queen,
Her hair about her eyne,
With neck and breast's ripe apples to be seen,
At first glance of the morn
In Cyprus' gardens gathering those fair flow'rs
Which of her blood were born,
I saw, but fainting saw, my paramours.
The Graces naked danced about the place,
The winds and trees amazed
With silence on her gazed,
The flowers did smile, like those upon her face;
And as their aspen stalks those fingers band,
That she might read my case,
A hyacinth I wish'd me in her hand.
paramours] = sing. paramour. band] bound.
William Drummond, of Hawthornden. 1585-1649
226. Spring Bereaved 1
THAT zephyr every year
So soon was heard to sigh in forests here,
It was for her: that wrapp'd in gowns of green
Meads were so early seen,
That in the saddest months oft sung the merles,
It was for her; for her trees dropp'd forth pearls.
That proud and stately courts
Did envy those our shades and calm resorts,
It was for her; and she is gone, O woe!
Woods cut again do grow,
Bud doth the rose and daisy, winter done;
But we, once dead, no more do see the sun.
William Drummond, of Hawthornden. 1585-1649
227. Spring Bereaved 2
SWEET Spring, thou turn'st with all thy goodly train,
Thy head with flames, thy mantle bright with flow'rs:
The zephyrs curl the green locks of the plain,
The clouds for joy in pearls weep down their show'rs.
Thou turn'st, sweet youth, but ah! my pleasant hours
And happy days with thee come not again;
The sad memorials only of my pain
Do with thee turn, which turn my sweets in sours.
Thou art the same which still thou wast before,
Delicious, wanton, amiable, fair;
But she, whose breath embalm'd thy wholesome air,
Is gone—nor gold nor gems her can restore.
Neglected virtue, seasons go and come,
While thine forgot lie closed in a tomb.
William Drummond, of Hawthornden. 1585-1649
228. Spring Bereaved 3