Venus and Adonis

It was racy, it was juicy, it was perfect. The tradition of erotic poetry goes way back to the ancients -- Sappho, Catullus, Ovid. Poetry is the language of the heart, the soul, and that fiery place of desire, and many poets throughout the ages have penned some very sexy verse. Shakespeare is on that list, most often for his sonnets. But years before they were published, when the theaters were closed in because of the plague, the relatively unknown year-old actor, poet and playwright published Venus and Adonis in an elegantly printed volume.

This narrative poem was his first published work -- several of his early plays had been staged but not published -- and it was dedicated to his wealthy, influential patron the Earl of Southampton. The poem, a rendering of the classical myth of the Goddess of Love's lust for a beautiful mortal, brims with sensuality, wit, genius imagery and dazzling language. Not surprisingly, it was a huge and immediate hit and was reprinted in at least ten editions in Shakespeare's lifetime.

Always the innovator, Shakespeare turns Venus into a lusty huntress. Shakespeare is known for inventing hundreds of words, creating sympathetic characters out of villains, replacing the idealized women of traditional sonnets with a beautiful young man and a not so beautiful dark lady. Other writers had dabbled in the ancient myth of Venus and Adonis, but it was Shakespeare who turned up the heat.

In his verse, Venus assumes the masculine role of a suitor, and when her wooing fails, she becomes a huntress on a steamy, bodice-ripping hunt. She's obsessed, on a crusade of passion: These weak flowers support me as if they were sturdy trees. Two tiny doves can drag me across the sky, and fly me anywhere I want, from morning until night. Love is so light, sweet boy. So why do you think it's such a burden? Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left? Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected, Steal thine own freedom and complain on theft.

Narcissus so himself himself forsook, And died to kiss his shadow in the brook. Can your right hand make love to your left? Then flirt with yourself and be rejected by yourself. You can still be free from love, but then you'll be robbing yourself. Narcissus fell in love with himself, too, and he died trying to kiss his own reflection in a stream. Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse: Seeds spring from seeds and beauty breedeth beauty; Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty. Things are supposed to be used for their purposes.

Seeds are planted and produce more seeds. Someone conceived you, so it's your duty to conceive a child of your own. By law of nature thou art bound to breed, That thine may live when thou thyself art dead; And so, in spite of death, thou dost survive, In that thy likeness still is left alive.

1. Wings of Isis Poetry.
2. Folger Consort.
3. Quand il avait 12 ans, Molière (French Edition).
4. Your Secret Power The Law and How to Get Everything YOU WANT in Life -From a law student. The law and everything I know about it. From a law student..

According to the laws of nature, you're supposed to procreate so that your children can live on after you're dead. That way, even when you die, you live on in your surviving children. By this the love-sick queen began to sweat, For where they lay the shadow had forsook them, And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat, With burning eye did hotly overlook them; Wishing Adonis had his team to guide, So he were like him and by Venus' side. After saying all that, the love-sick goddess started to sweat.

There was no shade where they were lying, and the sun was directly overhead in the midday heat. The sun-god, Titan, wished Adonis would trade places with him, so that Adonis would pull the sun across the sky in his chariot and Titan could lie down next to Venus instead.

• Venus and Adonis (Shakespeare poem) - Wikipedia?
• Principles of Package Development.
• .

And now Adonis, with a lazy spright, And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye, His louring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight, Like misty vapours when they blot the sky, Souring his cheeks cries 'Fie, no more of love! The sun doth burn my face: Adonis was starting to get bored. His eyes grew heavy and dark, indicating how unhappy he was.

He furrowed his brow low over his eyes, like clouds darkening the sky. He pouted and cried, "stop!

Shakespeare's Sonnets

Stop talking about love! The sun is burning my face. I need to leave. What bare excuses makest thou to be gone! I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind Shall cool the heat of this descending sun: I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs; If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears. You're making up such lame excuses to leave! If I breathe my heavenly breath, it'll cool down the heat of the sun. I can make a shady spot for you underneath my hair. If the sun starts to burn my hair, I'll put the fire out with my tears. The heat I have from thence doth little harm, Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me; And were I not immortal, life were done Between this heavenly and earthly sun.

But look—I'm lying between the sun and you. The sun's heat doesn't hurt me at all; it's your eyes that set my heart on fire. If I weren't immortal, I'd be a goner, caught between the sun and you. Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel What 'tis to love? O, had thy mother borne so hard a mind, She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind. No, you're harder than rock—rock erodes in the rain!

Didn't you have a mother—don't you know what love is? Don't you know how hard it is to be deprived of love? If your mother was as tough as you, she wouldn't have given birth to you; she would have died instead. Or what great danger dwells upon my suit? What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss? Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be mute: Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again, And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain. What are you afraid will happen if you give into me? Would your lips be that much worse off if they gave me a single kiss?

Only sweet things; otherwise be quiet. Give me one kiss, and I'll kiss you back. And I'll kiss you again if you want another one. Thou art no man, though of a man's complexion, For men will kiss even by their own direction. You look like a man, but you can't be human! You're not a man, even though you look like one. Men kiss women of their own accord. This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue, And swelling passion doth provoke a pause; Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth he wrong; Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause: And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak, And now her sobs do her intendments break.

FOLGER SHAKESPEARE LIBRARY

That said, she was overcome with impatience and got tongue-tied. Her intense emotion forced her to stop talking.

He looked angry with his red cheeks and fiery eyes. Even though Venus was the goddess of love, she couldn't help her cause. She cried, then tried to speak, then started to sob again in the middle of her sentence. Sometimes she shakes her head and then his hand, Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground; Sometimes her arms infold him like a band: She would, he will not in her arms be bound; And when from thence he struggles to be gone, She locks her lily fingers one in one.

She would shake her head, then pull on his hand. She'd gaze at him, then at the ground. She'd fold her arms around him, then, when he struggled to get away and finally escaped, she'd lace her white fingers together. Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie. You can nibble wherever you want: Graze on my lips. If my lips are dry, look lower, where the pleasant fountains are. Be my deer, then, since I'm your park. No dog will ever catch you, even if a thousand tried. At this Adonis smiles as in disdain, That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple: Love made those hollows, if himself were slain, He might be buried in a tomb so simple; Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie, Why, there Love lived and there he could not die.



Adonis smiled condescendingly at that. A pretty dimple showed in each cheek—if only his cheeks were dimpling for love.

Venus and Adonis

A lover can only hope to be buried in a grave as perfect as that dimple ; he would know that, when he was buried there, love was all around and could never die. These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits, Open'd their mouths to swallow Venus' liking. Being mad before, how doth she now for wits? Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking? Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn, To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn! Venus fell in love with those lovely caves, those round, enchanting holes; they swallowed her up.

She was crazy in love before, so where was she now? If you're dead after the first strike, do you really need to be struck again? Poor goddess of love—she was beat at her own game! She was in love with a dimple that only showed when he was rejecting her. Now which way shall she turn?

Her words are done, her woes are more increasing; The time is spent, her object will away, And from her twining arms doth urge releasing. Where could she turn? What could she say? She had no words left. Her suffering was getting worse, but she'd tried her best. Her object was trying to leave, straining against her arms around him. But, lo, from forth a copse that neighbors by, A breeding jennet, lusty, young and proud, Adonis' trampling courser doth espy, And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud: The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree, Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he.

But just then, a female horse came out from behind some nearby trees. She was young, attractive, energetic, and ready to breed. Adonis' horse saw her. She rushed over to him, snorted, and neighed. Adonis' strong-necked horse, still tied to the tree, broke his reins and went straight to her.

Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds, And now his woven girths he breaks asunder; The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds, Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thunder; The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth, Controlling what he was controlled with. He leapt up impressively, neighed, and ran. He broke his saddle from off his back and pawed the earth hard with his hoof.

His hoof in the dirt made a loud, echoing sound like thunder. He crushed the iron bit with his teeth, controlling what was used to control him. His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end; His nostrils drink the air, and forth again, As from a furnace, vapours doth he send: His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire, Shows his hot courage and his high desire.

He pricked his ears up. His braided mane didn't hang down anymore; it stood straight up on his head. His nostrils flared and he breathed out heavily again and again, his breath like steam blowing out of a furnace. His eyes were shining as bright as fire, showing how hot with desire he was, and how far he'd go to get what he wanted. Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps, With gentle majesty and modest pride; Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps, As who should say 'Lo, thus my strength is tried, And this I do to captivate the eye Of the fair breeder that is standing by.

He trotted gently, majestically, and modestly as if he were counting his steps. Then he reared up on his hind legs, and jumped with his back legs into the air as if to say, "look how strong I am! I'm doing all this to catch the eye of the pretty horse standing over there. What recketh he his rider's angry stir, His flattering 'Holla,' or his 'Stand, I say? For rich caparisons or trapping gay? He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, For nothing else with his proud sight agrees.

Does he care now that his angry rider is shouting, "hey" and "stay there? About fancy harnesses or bright-colored ribbons? He can't see anything but his love; nothing else is worth looking at to him. Look, when a painter would surpass the life, In limning out a well-proportion'd steed, His art with nature's workmanship at strife, As if the dead the living should exceed; So did this horse excel a common one In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone.

It was as if a painter had set out to draw an ideal horse that would put real horses to shame—drawing out the right proportions, painting him to his best ability, as if a work of art could be better than life. In just the same way, that horse's body, spirit, color, speed, and form excelled all other horses. Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostril wide, High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on so proud a back.

Round hooves; short joints; long, shaggy fetlocks ; a broad chest; full eyes; a small head; wide nostrils; a high forehead; straight legs; exceptional strength; a thin mane; thick tail; broad buttocks; and a soft hide: Sometime he scuds far off and there he stares; Anon he starts at stirring of a feather; To bid the wind a base he now prepares, And whether he run or fly they know not whether; For through his mane and tail the high wind sings, Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings.

He would scurry off and stand far away, staring. Then he'd start at the smallest thing. He was ready to chase the wind, whether he had to run or fly to do it. The wind ran through his mane and tail, fanning the hair out like feathery wings. He looks upon his love and neighs unto her; She answers him as if she knew his mind: Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her, She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind, Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels, Beating his kind embracements with her heels.

He looked at his love and neighed to her. She answered him as if she could read his mind. Like all females, she got prideful when he started flirting with her. She started acting cold and rude, rejecting his love and mocking his passion, kicking him away when he tried to get close. Then, like a melancholy malcontent, He veils his tail that, like a falling plume, Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent: He stamps and bites the poor flies in his fume.

His love, perceiving how he is enraged, Grew kinder, and his fury was assuaged. Then, as if he were depressed, he curled his tail over his backside, shading it like an umbrella. He stamped and bit the flies in his tail. His love could see how angry he was and started acting more kindly; his anger went away. His testy master goeth about to take him; When, lo, the unback'd breeder, full of fear, Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him, With her the horse, and left Adonis there: As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them, Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them.

His grumpy master went to grab him when, all of a sudden, the female horse spooked. Not wanting to lose her, Adonis' horse abandoned him and ran after her, leaving Adonis behind. They ran into the woods like crazy horses, running faster than the crows could fly in the air above them. All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits, Banning his boisterous and unruly beast: And now the happy season once more fits, That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest; For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue. Filled with anger, Adonis sat down, berating his energetic, misbehaving animal.

It was a good time then for lovesick Venus to make a more successful attempt at love. Lovers say that your heart is most in pain when it can't find the words to articulate what it feels. An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd, Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage: So of concealed sorrow may be said; Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage; But when the heart's attorney once is mute, The client breaks, as desperate in his suit. When you stop an oven, it burns hotter; when you dam a river, it swells higher. It's the same when you try to keep sadness bottled up. Love makes you want to speak up.

When you're silent, the words will break out of you because you start to get desperate. He sees her coming, and begins to glow, Even as a dying coal revives with wind, And with his bonnet hides his angry brow; Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind, Taking no notice that she is so nigh, For all askance he holds her in his eye. He saw her coming and started to get angry, like a dying coal that flames up in the wind.

He pulled his hat down over his face and looked down at the ground, angry and disturbed. He didn't look at her as she drew closer. He looked everywhere but at her.



• Book of Prayers (Spiritually Inspirational Self-Help Books for Christianity 1).
• GET MORE OUT OF YOUR SOYMILK MAKER COOKBOOK;
• 6 Reasons Why 'Venus And Adonis' By William Shakespeare Is One Of The Sexiest Poems Ever?
• Un Instituteur à dégommer (French Edition)?

O, what a sight it was, wistly to view How she came stealing to the wayward boy! To note the fighting conflict of her hue, How white and red each other did destroy!

Navigation menu

But now her cheek was pale, and by and by It flash'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky. It was a sight to see how she came creeping over to the escaping boy! It was strange to see how her face blushed and grew pale! Her cheek was pale, but a few seconds later it would blush again, as quickly as lightning in the sky. Now was she just before him as he sat, And like a lowly lover down she kneels; With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat, Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels: His tenderer cheek receives her soft hand's print, As apt as new-fall'n snow takes any dint.

She reached the place where he was sitting, and knelt down like a humble lover. She pulled his hat up with one hand, and felt his soft cheek with her other hand. His soft cheek, like freshly-fallen snow, felt the imprint of her soft hand on it. O, what a war of looks was then between them! Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing; His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them; Her eyes woo'd still, his eyes disdain'd the wooing: And all this dumb play had his acts made plain With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain.

There was a war of looks between the two of them. She looked into his eyes, pleading, begging. He looked into hers like he couldn't see them. Her eyes flirted with him; his eyes rejected her flirting. Their silent looks gave way to an abundance of tears, which rained down from her eyes to explain her sadness. Full gently now she takes him by the hand, A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow, Or ivory in an alabaster band; So white a friend engirts so white a foe: This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling, Show'd like two silver doves that sit a-billing.

She took him gently by the hand, encasing his white hand in her white one. It was like a lily covered in snow, or ivory wrapped in alabaster; that's how white their two hands were. This beautiful battle between her and him—the willing and the unwilling—was like two silver doves pecking at each other. Once more the engine of her thoughts began: She started to speak again, saying, "you're the most handsome man that ever walked the earth! If you were a woman and I were a man, and you were the lovesick one instead of me, I'd help you out with an encouraging look, knowing nothing except that my body would cure you!

O, give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it, And being steel'd, soft sighs can never grave it: Then love's deep groans I never shall regard, Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard. Oh, give it back to me, or your heart will harden mine! And once it's hardened, I'll never be able to fall in love again, not even for the sweetest lover, because Adonis' heart will have made mine hard. I pray you hence, and leave me here alone; For all my mind, my thought, my busy care, Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.

I'm tired of this, my horse is gone, and it's your fault that I lost him. Get out of here. Please leave me alone. All I can think about or care about right now is getting my horse back from that mare. Affection is a coal that must be cool'd; Else, suffer'd, it will set the heart on fire: The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none; Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone. She replied, "your horse is giving into the heat of love as he should. You have to give desire what it wants; otherwise, if you let it burn, it'll set your heart on fire. The sea has limits, but deep desire knows no bounds.

Don't be surprised your horse is gone. But when he saw his love, his youth's fair fee, He held such petty bondage in disdain; Throwing the base thong from his bending crest, Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast. But when he saw the female horse, he fell in love with her. He didn't care about being tied up then. He threw off his burdens, freeing his head, mouth, back, and chest. Who is so faint, that dare not be so bold To touch the fire, the weather being cold? Don't other parts of your body want to be satisfied? Who's afraid to go after what they want when they want it? You should learn from him.

Putting what I've said aside, you can still learn from his actions. The lesson is simple and, once you learn it, you never forget it. All I care about is hunting boars. It sounds like a lot of work that I'm not willing to put in. All I can say about love is that I love to reject it. I've heard it doesn't last very long anyway, and that it makes you have mood swings so that you're laughing one minute and crying the next.

Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth? If springing things be any jot diminish'd, They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth: The colt that's back'd and burden'd being young Loseth his pride and never waxeth strong. Who picks a flower before a single leaf has sprouted? If you ruin something while it's still growing, you never get to see what it could have become. If you break a horse in and teach it to obey commands when it's young, it loses its spirit and never gets big and strong. Remove your siege from my unyielding heart; To love's alarms it will not ope the gate: Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery; For where a heart is hard they make no battery.

Forget all this useless chat. Stop trying to get me to fall in love with you; I'm not interested. Quit your promises, your fake tears, and your flattery. I'm not going to give in to you. O, would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing! Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong; I had my load before, now press'd with bearing: Melodious discord, heavenly tune harshsounding, Ear's deep-sweet music, and heart's deep-sore wounding.

What are you saying? I wish you couldn't speak at all! I wish I were deaf! You've hurt me two times over: Your looks are like a sweet melody, but your words are harsh and dissonant. Seeing and hearing you at the same time is music to the ear, but a deep wound to the heart. Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see, Yet should I be in love by touching thee. Or if I had no ears, then I'd fall head over heels in love with your external attractiveness.

And if I didn't have eyes or ears and couldn't see or hear, I'd still fall in love with you through touch alone. You see, the pores of your face produce a sweet smell that would make anyone fall in love with you just by smelling. Would they not wish the feast might ever last, And bid Suspicion double-lock the door, Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest, Should, by his stealing in, disturb the feast?

The taste of you alone would make up for all my other lost senses. I'd never want the feast to end. I wouldn't mind giving up my other senses, in fact, because sight, hearing, touch, and smell might be jealous! If I had all my senses, it'd disturb the feast of taste! Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd, Which to his speech did honey passage yield; Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds, Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.

He opened the red, gaping door of his mouth again as if to say something sweet. His mouth was like the red morning sun that tells sailors that storms are coming; farmers that the crops will be ruined; shepherds that they'll lose their flocks; birds that they'll have trouble flying; and cowboys and cows that they'll have strong winds to deal with.

This ill presage advisedly she marketh: Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth, Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh, Or as the berry breaks before it staineth, Or like the deadly bullet of a gun, His meaning struck her ere his words begun. She took note of this bad omen. Like the way the wind blows before it rains; or the way a wolf grins before it barks; or the way a berry breaks before its juice leaks out; or the way a gun goes off before its deadly bullet strikes, she knew exactly what he was about to say even before he started.

And at his look she flatly falleth down, For looks kill love and love by looks reviveth; A smile recures the wounding of a frown; But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth! The silly boy, believing she is dead, Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red;. When she saw his face, she fell down flat. Looks can kill when you're in love; and loving looks are the only thing that can set you right again. A smile cancels out all the harm that a frown does. But even when you have nothing to go on, you're blessed to be so in love! Thinking she was dead, the silly boy slapped her pale cheek until he made it red again.

And all amazed brake off his late intent, For sharply he did think to reprehend her, Which cunning love did wittily prevent: Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her! For on the grass she lies as she were slain, Till his breath breatheth life in her again. He stopped what he'd been saying. He had intended to reject her once and for all, but her clever trick prevented him from doing so.

She was pretty smart to think of that! She lay there in the grass as if she were dead until his breath brought her to life again. He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks, He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard, He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr'd: He kisses her; and she, by her good will, Will never rise, so he will kiss her still.

He pinched her nose, slapped her cheeks, bent her fingers, felt her pulse, brushed her lips—he tried a thousand different things to undo how he'd hurt her. Then he kissed her. As far a she was concerned, she would never get up as long as he would keep on kissing her. The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day: Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth, Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array He cheers the morn and all the earth relieveth; And as the bright sun glorifies the sky, So is her face illumined with her eye;.

All her sadness went away; she was happy now. She opened her two blue eyes, shining at him like the sun when it rises in the early morning, waking the earth. Her face brightened when her eyes opened, just like when the sun illuminates the sky. Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd, As if from thence they borrow'd all their shine.

Were never four such lamps together mix'd, Had not his clouded with his brow's repine; But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light, Shone like the moon in water seen by night. Her eyes were fixed on his hairless face as if they got all their energy from him. Four such exceptional eyes have never been in the same place at the same time before or since. His eyes were overshadowed by his frowning eyebrows, but her eyes shone through her tears like the moon reflected in water at night. What hour is this? Do I delight to die, or life desire? But now I lived, and life was death's annoy; But now I died, and death was lively joy.

What time is it? Is it morning, or evening? Do I want to die, or live? Just a few seconds ago, I was alive and couldn't dream of dying, but then I died and I really enjoyed it. Thy eyes' shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine, Hath taught them scornful tricks and such disdain That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine; And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen, But for thy piteous lips no more had seen.

You're hard-hearted; you've been giving me rude, hateful, condescending looks. You've broken my poor heart. As for me—I can usually control myself. If I hadn't seen your luscious lips I wouldn't be in this mess. O, never let their crimson liveries wear! And as they last, their verdure still endure, To drive infection from the dangerous year!

That the star-gazers, having writ on death, May say, the plague is banish'd by thy breath. Never stop kissing me with your luscious red lips! As long as your fresh, young lips are around, the world will be free from disease all year round! Astronomers who foretold an epidemic will have to change their statements, saying the disease has been cured by your breath. To sell myself I can be well contented, So thou wilt buy and pay and use good dealing; Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lips. What deal do I have to make with you?

I'd be happy to sell my soul—as long as you'd buy it and treat it nicely. If you buy my soul, you'll have to mark me as yours by setting the seal of your lips on mine. Venus and Adonis is a narrative poem by William Shakespeare published in It is probably Shakespeare's first publication.

The poem tells the story of Venus , the goddess of Love; of her unrequited love; and of her attempted seduction of Adonis , an extremely handsome young man, who would rather go hunting. The poem is pastoral, and at times erotic, comic, and tragic. It contains discourses on the nature of love, and observations of nature. This form was also used by Edmund Spenser and Thomas Lodge. The poem consists of stanzas or 1, lines of iambic pentameter. It was published originally as a quarto pamphlet and published with great care.

It was probably printed using Shakespeare's fair copy. The printer was Richard Field , who, like Shakespeare, was from Stratford. Venus and Adonis appeared in print before any of Shakespeare's plays were published, but not before some of his plays had been acted on stage. It was written when the London theatres were closed for a time due to the plague. The poem begins with a brief dedication to Shakespeare's patron, Henry Wriothesley, 3rd Earl of Southampton , in which the poet describes the poem as "the first heir of my invention".

Ovid's much briefer version of the tale occurs in book ten of his Metamorphoses. Other stories in Ovid's work are, to a lesser degree, considered sources: Venus and Adonis was extremely popular as soon as it was published, and it was reprinted fifteen times before It is unusual that so few of the original quartos have survived. Adonis is a young man renowned for his incredible beauty.

However, he is not interested at all in love; he only wants to go hunting. Venus is the goddess of love. When she sees Adonis, she falls in love with him, and comes down to earth, where she encounters him setting out on a hunt.