146871And as she runs, the bushes in the way,

872Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face,

873Some twine about her thigh to make her stay.

874She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace,

875 Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ache,

876 Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake.

147877By this, she hears the hounds are at a bay,

878Whereat she starts like one that spies an adder

879Wreathed up in fatal folds just in his way,

880The fear where of doth make him shake and shudder;

881 Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds

882 Appalls her senses, and her spirit confounds.

148883For now she knows it is no gentle chase,

884But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud,

885Because the cry remaineth in one place,

886Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud,

887 Finding their enemy to be so curst,

888 They all strain court'sy who shall cope him first.

149889This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear,

890Through which it enters to surprise her heart,

891Who, overcome by doubt and bloodless fear,

892With cold-pale weakness, numbs each feeling part.

893 Like soldiers, when their captain once doth yield,

894 They basely fly and dare not stay the field.

150895Thus stands she in a trembling ecstasy,

896Till, cheering up her senses all dismayed,

897She tells them 'tis a causeless fantasy,

898And childish error that they are afraid;

899 Bids them leave quaking, bids them fear no more,

900 And with that word, she spied the hunted boar,