198
The second Booke of
Cant. I.
Or thrild with point of thorough piercing paine;As gentle Hynd, whose sides with cruell steeleThrough laūched, forth her bleeding life does raine,Whiles the sad pang approching shee does feele,Braies out her latest breath, and vp her eies doth seele.
Which when that warriour heard, dismounting straictFrom his tall steed, he rusht into the thick,And soone arriued, where that sad pourtraictOf death and dolour lay, halfe dead, halfe quick,In whose white alabaster brest did stickA cruell knife, that made a griesly wownd,From which forth gusht a stream of goreblood thick,That all her goodly garments staind arownd,And into a deepe sanguine dide the grassy grownd.
Pitifull spectacle of deadly smart,Beside a bubling fountaine low she lay,Which shee increased with her bleeding hart,And the cleane waues with purple gore did ray;Als in her lap a louely babe did playHis cruell sport, in stead of sorrow dew;For in her streaming blood he did embayHis litle hands, and tender ioints embrew;Pitifull spectacle, as euer eie did vew.
Besides them both, vpon the soiled grasThe dead corse of an armed knight was spred,Whose armour all with blood besprincled was;His ruddy lips did smyle, and rosy redDid paint his chearefull cheekes, yett being ded,Seemd to haue beene a goodly personage,Now in his freshest flowre of lusty hed,Fitt to inflame faire Lady with loues rage,But that fiers fate did crop the blossome of his age.
Whom
