- description
- # 11. 787—810
## Overview
This section, labeled "11. 787—810," is a textual segment extracted from the chapter [VENVS AND ADONIS.](arke:01KG6S4EKY2NN9C1PGK59TDRWY). It spans lines 2564 to 2598 of its source file and was extracted on January 30, 2026.
## Context
This section is part of the larger chapter [VENVS AND ADONIS.](arke:01KG6S4EKY2NN9C1PGK59TDRWY), which is itself contained within the [PDF Workflow Main Test 2026-01-30T00:26:53](arke:01KG6NWQ2H2K4PGG7H4ZHYCZ3Y) collection. The text was extracted from the file [pdf-01KG6Q7Q25RHMFT3SJXPV18VFF.txt](arke:01KG6S2X2EBB305ENM00G16GWA). It follows the section [II. 763—786](arke:01KG6S5KEMZ01C4E1SAK808J50) and precedes the section [II. 811—834](arke:01KG6S5KEM4CGF1CHXAEEP3NEB), indicating its sequential position within the poem.
## Contents
The section contains 24 lines of poetry from "VENVS AND ADONIS." It describes Venus's distress after Adonis breaks away from her embrace and runs homeward. The text uses vivid imagery, comparing Adonis's departure to a "bright star shooteth from the skye" and Venus's gaze to someone watching a "late embarked friend." It further details Venus's emotional state, likening her amazement to dropping a precious jewel or being lost in a "mistrustfull wood," and concludes with her lamentations echoing through "neighbour caues."
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- 2026-01-30T06:25:42.209Z
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- description_title
- 11. 787—810
- end_line
- 2598
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- 2026-01-30T06:24:08.803Z
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- start_line
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- text
- 11. 787—810
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# VENYS AND ADONIS.
WVith this he breaketh from the sweet embrace,
Of those faire armes which bound him to her brest,
And homeward through the dark lawnd runs apace,
Leaues loue vpon her backe, deeply distrest,
Looke how a bright star shooteth from the skye;
So glides he in the night from Venus eye.
Which after him she dartes, as one on shore
Gazing vpon a late embarked friend,
Till the wilde waues will haue him seene no more,
Whose ridges with the meeting cloudes contend:
So did the merciless, and pitchie night,
Fold in the obiect that did seed her sight.
Whereat amas’d as one that vnaware,
Hath dropt a precious iewell in the flood,
Or stonisht, as night wandrers often are,
Their light blowne out in some mistrustfull wood;
Euen so confounded in the darke she lay,
Hauing lost the faire discourse of her way.
And now she beates her heart, whereat it grones,
That all the neighbour caues as seeming troubled,
Make verball repetition of her mones,
Passion on passion, deeply is redoubled,
Ay me, she cries, and twentie times, wo, wo,
And twentie ecchoes, twentie times crie so,
Fij
- title
- 11. 787—810