- description
- # II. 907—930
## Overview - What this is (type, form, dates, scope)
This is a section of text, likely a stanza or a group of stanzas, extracted from a larger text. It is labeled "II. 907—930" indicating its position within a chapter or work. The text was extracted on January 30, 2026, and is part of the [PDF Workflow Main Test 2026-01-30T00:26:53](arke:01KG6NWQ2H2K4PGG7H4ZHYCZ3Y) collection.
## Context - Background and provenance from related entities
This section is part of the chapter titled "VENVS AND ADONIS." ([arke:01KG6S4EKY2NN9C1PGK59TDRWY]). The text was extracted from the file [pdf-01KG6Q7Q25RHMFT3SJXPV18VFF.txt](arke:01KG6S2X2EBB305ENM00G16GWA) which is part of the collection [PDF Workflow Main Test 2026-01-30T00:26:53](arke:01KG6NWQ2H2K4PGG7H4ZHYCZ3Y). This section follows [II. 883—906](arke:01KG6S5KEV1VJQG7QVJGFHYN08) and precedes [II. 931—954](arke:01KG6S5KEVJ3V5AMVG65DDW8N8).
## Contents - What it contains, key subjects and details
The section contains a poem with the title "VENYS AND ADONIS." The text describes a scene where death is personified as a "Hard fauourd tyrant" and is chided for its actions. The poem laments the death of a beautiful person, possibly Adonis, and questions the nature of death and beauty. The text includes lines such as "Grim-grinning ghost, earths-worme what dost thou" and "Dost thou drink tears, that thou prouok'st such wee-".
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- 2026-01-30T06:25:43.191Z
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- description_title
- II. 907—930
- end_line
- 2770
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T06:24:08.804Z
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- start_line
- 2737
- text
- II. 907—930
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# VENYS AND ADONIS.
Hard fauourd tyrant, ougly, meagre, leane,
Flatefull diuorce of loue, (thus chides the death)
Grim-grinning ghost, earths-worme what dost thou
To stifle beautie, and to steale his breath? (meane?
VVho when he liu'd, his breath and beautie set
Gloffe on the rose, smell to the violet.
If he be dead, ô no, it cannot be,
Seeing his beautie, thou shouldst strike at it,
Oh yes, it may, thou hast no eyes to see,
But hatefully at randon doest thou hit,
Thy marke is feeble age, but thy false dart,
Mistakes that aime, and cleaues an infants hart.
Hadst thou but bid beware, then he had spoke,
And hearing him, thy power had lost his power,
The destinies will curse thee for this stroke,
They bid thee crop a weed, thou pluckst a flower,
Loues golden arrow at him should haue fled,
And not deaths ebon dart to strike him dead.
Dost thou drink tears, that thou prouok'st such wee-
VVhat may a heauie grone aduantage thee? (ping,
VVhy hast thou cast into eternall sleeping,
Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see?
Now nature cares not for thy mortall vigour,
Since her best worke is ruin'd with thy rigour.
Here
- title
- II. 907—930