The rain outside was cold in Hadrian's
soul.
The boy lay dead
On the low couch, on whose denuded
whole,
To Hadrian's eyes, whose sorrow was a
dread,
The shadowy light of Death's eclipse
was shed.
The boy lay dead, and the day seemed a
night
Outside. The rain fell like a sick
affright
Of Nature at her work in killing him.
Memory of what he was gave no delight,
Delight at what he was was dead and
dim.
O hands that once had clasped
Hadrian's warm hands,
Whose cold now found them cold!
O hair bound erstwhile with the
pressing bands!
O eyes half-diffidently bold!
O bare female male-body such
As a god's likeness to humanity!
O lips whose opening redness erst
could touch
Lust's seats with a live art's
variety!
O fingers skilled in things not to be
told!
O tongue which, counter-tongued, made
the blood bold!
O complete regency of lust throned on
Raged consciousness's spilled suspension!
These things are things that now must
be no more.
The rain is silent, and the Emperor
Sinks by the couch. His grief is like
a rage,
For the gods take away the life they
give
And spoil the beauty they made live.
He weeps and knows that every future
age
Is looking on him out of the to-be;
His love is on a universal stage;
A thousand unborn eyes weep with his
misery.
Antinous is dead, is dead for ever,
Is dead for ever and all loves lament.
Venus herself, that was Adonis' lover,
Seeing him, that newly lived, now dead
again,
Lends her old grief's renewal to be
blent
With Hadrian's pain.
Now is Apollo sad because the stealer
Of his white body is for ever cold.
No careful kisses on that nippled
point
Covering his heart-beats' silent place
restore
His life again to ope his eyes and
feel her
Presence along his veins Love's
fortress hold.
No warmth of his another's warmth
demands.
Now will his hands behind his head no
more
Linked, in that posture giving all but
hands,
On the projected body hands implore.
The rain falls, and he lies like one
who hath
Forgotten all the gestures of his love
And lies awake waiting their hot
return.
But all his arts and toys are now with
Death.
This human ice no way of heat can
move;
These ashes of a fire no flame can
burn.
