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IDYL XV.

ADONIA ZU SE.

ARGUMENT.

The poet describes the festival of Adonis, celebrated by Arsinoe, the wife of Philadelphus. He takes the opportunity of praising the Queen, and all the family of Ptolemy. He introduces two women born and bred at Syracuse, but married and settled at Alexandria; these dames, accompanied each by a handmaid, go to see the spectacle. The scene changes from a house in the suburbs to the streets crowded with citizens and soldiery; thence to the gates of the palace; and lastly to the royal hall, in which the images of Aphrodite and Adonis, with the usual accompaniments, are exhibited. A singing girl is introduced, who sings in honour of Adonis. This piece is remarkable for its variety. The drollery of the gossips is admirably hit off;

and the whole is described as circumstantially and vividly, as though the writer had been by the side of the women the whole time, hearing and seeing all that passed.

GORGO.

PERSONS.

PRAXINOA.

EUNOA, (her Servant).

OLD WOMAN.

STRANGERS.

THE SINGING GIRL.

[blocks in formation]

How late you are! I wonder, I confess,

That you are come e'en now. Quick, brazen-front!

[To EUNOA.

A chair there-stupid! lay a cushion on't.

GORGO.

Thank you, 'tis very

well.

PRAXINOA.

Be seated, pray.

GORGO.

My untamed soul! what dangers on the way!
I scarce could get alive here: such a crowd!
So many soldiers with their trappings proud!
A weary way it is-you live so far.

PRAXINOA.

The man, whose wits with sense are aye at war,
Bought at the world's end but to vex my soul
This dwelling-no! this serpent's lurking-hole,
That we might not be neighbours: plague o' my life,
His only joy is quarrelling and strife.

GORGO.

Talk not of Dinon so before the boy;

See how he looks at you!

PRAXINOA.

My honey-joy!

My pretty dear! 'tis not papa I mean.

GORGO.

Handsome papa! the urchin, by the Queen,

Knows every word you say.

PRAXINOA.

The other day

For this in sooth of every thing we say―

The mighty man of inches went and brought me Salt which for nitre and ceruse he bought me.

And so my Diocleide

GORGO.

a brother wit,

A money-waster, lately thought it fit

To give seven goodly drachms for fleeces five

Mere rottenness, but dog's hair, as I live,

The plucking of old scrips

a work to make.

But come, your cloak and gold-claspt kirtle take,

And let us speed to Ptolemy's rich hall,

To see the fine Adonian festival.

The

queen will make the show most grand, I hear.

PRAXINOA.

All things most rich in rich men's halls appear.
To those who have not seen it, one can tell

What one has seen.

GORGO.

Tis time to go - tis well

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