¶And being opend, threw vnwilling light,
¶Vpon the wide wound, that the boare had trencht
¶In his
soft flanke, who
se wonted lillie white
¶VVith purple tears that his wound wept, had drēcht.
1055_No floure was nigh, no gra
sse, hearb, leaf, or weed,
¶_But
stole his blood, and
seemd with him to bleed.
¶This
solemne
sympathie, poore Venus noteth,
¶Ouer one
shoulder doth
she hang her head,
¶Dumblie
she pa
ssions, frantikely
she doteth,
1060She thinkes he could not die, he is not dead,
¶_Her voice is
stopt, her ioynts forget to bow,
¶_Her eyes are mad, that they haue wept till now.
¶Vpon his hurt
she lookes
so
stedfa
stly,
¶That her
sight dazling, makes the wound
seem three,
1065And then
she reprehends her mangling eye,
¶That makes more ga
shes, where no breach
shuld be:
¶_His face
seems twain, ech
seuerall lim is doubled,
¶_For oft the eye mi
stakes, the brain being troubled
¶My tongue cannot expre
sse my griefe for one,
1070And yet (quoth
she) behold two Adons dead,
¶My
sighes are blowne away, my
salt teares gone,
¶Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead,
¶_Heauie hearts lead melt at mine eyes red fire,
¶_So
shall I die by drops of hot de
sire.
