And, with fell tooth accustomed to blood, Launched his thigh with so mischievous might, That it both bone and muscles ryved quight. 120

So deadly was the dint and deep the wound, And fo huge streames of blood thereout did flow, That he endured not the direfull stound,

But on the cold deare earth himselfe did throw; The whiles the captive heard his nets did rend, And, having none to let, to wood did wend. 126

Ah! where were ye this while his fhepheard

peares,

yeares,

To whom alive was nought fo deare as hee:
And ye faire Mayds, the matches of his
Which in his grace did boast you most to bee!
Ah! where were ye, when he of you had need,
To ftop his wound that wondrously did bleed!

Ah! wretched boy, the shape of dreryhead,
And fad enfample of mans fuddein end:
Full litle faileth but thou shalt be dead,
Unpitied, unplaynd, of foe or frend!
Whileft none is nigh, thine eylids up to close,
And kiffe thy lips like faded leaves of rofe.

135

Ver. 127. Ah! where were ye this while &c.] See my note on Milton's Lycidas, ver. 50. T. WARTON.

Ver. 138. And kiffe thy lips like faded leaves of rose.] A line of uncommon expreffion and tenderness. TODD,

140

A fort of fhepheards fewing of the chace,
As they the foreft raunged on a day,
By fate or fortune came unto the place,
Where as the luckleffe boy yet bleeding lay;
Yet bleeding lay, and yet would still have bled,
Had not good hap those shepheards thether led.

They stopt his wound, (too late to ftop it was!)
And in their armes then foftly did him reare:
Tho (as he wild) unto his loved laffe,
His dearest love, him dolefully did beare.
The dolefulft biere that ever man did fee,
Was Aftrophel, but deareft unto mee!

150

She, when fhe faw her Love in fuch a plight, With crudled blood and filthie gore deformed, That wont to be with flowers and gyrlonds dight,

And her deare favours dearly well adorned; Her face, the fairest face that eye mote fee, 155 She likewife did deforme like him to bee.

Her yellow locks that shone fo bright and long,
As funny beames in fairest fomers day,
She fierfly tore, and with outragious wrong
From her red cheeks the rofes rent away: 160

Ver. 139. A fort of fhepheards &c.] See the note on fort, F. Q. vi. ix. 5. T. WARTON.

And her faire breft, the threafury of ioy,
She fpoyld thereof, and filled with annoy.

His palled face, impictured with death,
She bathed oft with teares and dried oft:
And with sweet kiffes fuckt the wafting breath
Out of his lips like lillies pale and soft.
And oft fhe cald to him, who answerd nought,
But onely by his lookes did tell his thought.

The reft of her impatient regret,

166

And piteous mone the which the for him made,
No toong can tell, nor any forth can set, 171
But he whofe heart like forrow did invade.
At laft, when paine his vitall powres had spent,
His wafted life her weary lodge forwent.

Which when the faw, fhe ftaied not a whit, 175
But after him did make untimely haste:
Forth with her ghost out of her corps

did flit,
And followed her make like turtle chafte :
To prove that death their hearts cannot divide
Which living were in love fo firmly tide.

180

The gods, which all things fee, this fame

beheld,

Ver. 178,

her make] Mate, companion; the

old word. It occurs often in the Faer. Qu. The modern editions read mate. TODD.

And, pittying this paire of lovers trew,
Transformed them there lying on the field
Into one flowre that is both red and blew :
It first growes red, and then to blew doth fade,
Like Aftrophel, which thereinto was made. 186
And in the midft thereof a star appeares,
As fairly formd as any star in fkyes:
Refembling Stella in her freshest yeares,
Forth darting beames of beautie from her eyes;
And all the day it ftandeth full of deow,
Which is the teares, that from her eyes did flow.

191

That hearbe of fome, Starlight is cald by name,
Of others Penthia, though not fo well:
But thou, where ever thou doeft finde the fame,
From this day forth do call it Aftrophel:
And, when fo ever thou it up doest take,
Do pluck it foftly for that shepheards fake.

196

Hereof when tydings far abroad did paffe, The fhepheards all which loved him full deare, And fure full deare of all he loved was,

201

Did thether flock to fee what they did heare. And when that pitteous fpectacle they vewed, The fame with bitter teares they all bedewed.

Ver. 196. do call it Aftrophel;Do pluck it foftly &c.] The reduplication, "do call it, &c. do pluck it foftly, &c." is peculiarly affecting and impreffive. TODD.

205

And every one did make exceeding mone,
With inward anguish and great griefe oppreft:
And every one did weep and waile, and mone,
And meanes deviz'd to fhew his forrow best.
That from that houre, fince first on graffie greene
Shepheards kept sheep, was not like mourning

feen.

But first his fifter that Clorinda hight,

210

The gentlest shepheardeffe that lives this day, And most resembling both in shape and spright Her brother deare, began this dolefull lay. Which, least I marre the sweetneffe of the vearfe, In fort as she it fung I will rehearse.

Ver. 215. Which, leaft I marre the sweetnese of the verse,

216

In fort as fhe it fung I will rehearse.] From this avowal I conclude that the following poem was not written by Spenfer, but by the fifter of Sir Philip, the accomplished Mary Countess of Pembroke, here poetically called Clarinda. We have already feen that he was particularly fkilled in poetry. See The Ruines of Time, ver. 316, and the note there. All the fubfequert poenis on the death of Sir Philip are evidently a collection brought together by Spenfer. TODD.

THE

DOLEFULL LAY OF CLORINDA.

AY
me, to whom shall I my cafe complaine,
That may compaffion my impatient griefe !