- cid
- bafkreicazywr5ckhj3b6q7kfg6abbtizxpfcdr3jxkyabarys5dlguopse
- content_type
- image/jpeg
- filename
- 06_poems_pericles_facsimiles_1905_oxford_page_0090.jpg
- height
- 2400
- key
- pdf-page-1769752318077-13j41bcauhl
- ocr_model
- mistral-ocr-latest
- page_number
- 90
- size
- 347839
- text
- 
# VENVS AND ADONIS.
EVEN as the funne with purple-colourd face,
Had tane his last leaue of the weeping morne,
Rose-cheekt Adonis hied him to the chace,
Hunting he lou'd, but loue he laught to scorne:
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amaine vnto him,
And like a bold fac'd futer ginnes to woo him.
Thrise fairer then my felfe, (thus she began)
The fields chiese flower, sweet aboue compare,
Staine to all Nimphs, more louely then a man,
More white, and red, then doues, or roses are:
Nature that made thee with her felfe at strife,
Saih that the world hath ending with thy life.
Vouchsafe thou wonder to alight thy steed,
And raine his proud head to the saddle bow,
If thou wilt daine this fauor, for thy meed
A thou sand honie secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where neuer serpent hisses,
And being set, lle smother thee with kisses.
B
II. 1—18
- text_extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:12:48.706Z
- text_extracted_by
- ocr-service
- text_has_content
- true
- text_images_count
- 1
- text_source
- ocr
- uploaded
- true
- width
- 1750