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death had done, and that those very “hopes and fears 
•which are akin to love” were now for ever darkened 
and extinguished; she hurst forth into such a loud, 
wailing lamentation, that the sound found its way unto 
Olympus, and fell upon the ever-open ear of Jove, who, 
in a moment, dashed the golden nectar-cup upon the 
ground, which he was about uplifting to his lips, and 
sprang upon his feet. There was a sound of hurrying 
to and fro over the mountain-summits, which sloped 
down to the edge of the forest—of gods and goddesses 
passing through the air—of golden chariots, that went 
whistling along like the wind, as they cleft their rapid 
way—and the flapping of dark, immortal wings, be¬ 
tween which many a beautiful divinity was seated. 
The golden clouds of sunset gathered red and omi¬ 
nously about the rounded summit of Olympus, and a 
blood-reds light glared upon such parts of the forest as 
were not darkened by the deepening shadows of the 
approaching twilight,—for the Thunderer had stamped 
his immortal foot, and jarred the mighty mountain to 
its very base. And now, in that forest glade, which 
but a few moments before was so wild and desolate,— 
where only the forms of the grisly boar, the dead Ado¬ 
nis, and the weeping Goddess of Beauty broke the 
level lines of the angry sunset, were assembled the 
stern Gods, and the weeping Graces, and the fluttering 
Loves that ever hover around the chariot of Venus. 
With bleeding feet and drooping head,—wan, and cold, 
and speechless,—was the Goddess of Beauty lifted into 
her golden chariot, and, with the dead body of Adonis, 
wafted by her silver and silent-winged doves to Mount 
Olympus. And then a deep darkness settled down 
