Adonis
by Lykeia
Adonis, boy, a tender spring shoot,
Seeded in a secret light of forbidden love,
Unblemished, stainless, in perfection born,
From Smyrna's deep root, the laboring womb.
Perfumed boy, waxing among the sweetest sap,
Delivered into the world, a blooming mortal flower,
Fated to live and love between earth and sea.
Garland-crowned prince, beloved of two queens,
A pale flower blossoms and then retreats,
Delivered between the golden arms as seasons turn,
A portion of year to Persephone, and beheld to Aphrodite,
And fair Love receives too his own third in bowered bed,
What insult to fan in the heart of crowned queen of the dead!
Tender boy playing hunter's fine made man,
Under careful watchful guidance of Aphrodite’s leading hand,
Away, away the dangerous beasts that hunt night and day,
That this bright flower boy in her company always stay.
Love is a sweet thing, it disregards and lays aside,
Unheedful of the needful things, for a time of sweetest bliss.
And that passion which flames up high beneath the kiss,
Strikes vengeful to those who against love transgress.
But summer heat devours the tender gardened plant,
And the fragile frond wilts beneath the heated blast.
That gold-flanked bore bit deep with his curving tusk,
The death-moan like a sigh of youth upon the wind,
And Adonis falls to death in his moist leafy bed.
Spiral up from the tear-wet blood, the blossom flowers,
Fragrant spring blossom, brief in life, Adonis lives anemone.
Weep and cry women, for the sorrow of Aphrodite,
Budding young love ripped from the light of life.
Sorrow with her wandering sorrow, at the side of the sea,
There with golden council, fling in mourning from rock into deep.
Garlands drift upon the waters, a fragrant blossom out of sight,
To the edge of the world, and in spring to come again.
Adonis, fair Adonis, half of the year beneath earth's breast,
Within Persephone's rich treasure-jeweled halls to grace.
And then rise again, rise again to Aphrodite's remembered embrace,
Sweet myrrh embalms and runs fast through trees in spring renewed.
Tender spring flower, brief life so sweet in the world of men,
And beneath raging sun, withered, descend and descend.
Adonis with Aphrodite here, and then so soon gone again,
Cry for grief of Adonis, you who ever loved, bright-cheeked women!
Epithalamia for
Adonis
by Phillupus
Most fragrant Lord, sprung from the sap of Myrrh,
beautiful one protected by Persephone--
go now to the bridal chamber prepared for you!
May there be an end to weeping for all
on this day of your wedding to she
who is the finest of flesh that ever the eyes
of gods or mortals rested upon long or short.
Your strong arm has wielded spears and nets
on the hunt of hares and stags,
but put away those things for today,
heed not the call of the carved horn
of huntsmen, the baying of scent-hounds,
the hooves of horses bridled for the chase.
Let not the snarl and snort of acorn-eaters
in the depths of the forest detain you,
do not give your tender flesh as finest target
for the white wanton tusks of boars
in the fields and forests of far-off Lebanon.
She waits for you now, the foam-born one,
the lady of Kythera and Cyprus,
she who will be as beautiful
when she sinks below the waves as when she rose.
Your name will be sung and honored by all
who have felt the exquisite pain of love,
and you will yet live and be praised
to the very depths of the earth forever
for the lying down which you shall do today.
For Adonis
by Lykeia
The bane of summer with its leaching rays
Draws ever closer in the waxing days
Where once I rested my head upon the pillow of her breast
Oh the sweet cream beneath my parched lips
And she cupped the nectar of spring flowers within her hands
And tipped that wine
Down
Upon my tongue
Now lamenting arms cannot keep me
As Helios lingers high above the world
The tender green withering beneath his gaze
So too do my fruitless arms
Unsteady in their youth
Turn back with a sigh to the earth
To sleep
To die
I am a blossomless sprout
Fair for its brief breath
And the fragile charm of sweetest days
I return ever to the bosom of our mother
Whom all humanity holds dear
Passing away to return
When the sun yields mellow warmth
Dappled between soft fronds of green
I return to the dewy violets
Of Aphrodite's succulent bed
