The scorching flame sore swinged1 all his Full of great vertues, and for med'cine face, 231 Faynt, wearie, sore, emboyled,2 grieved, brent,3 With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, and inward fire, 245 That never man such mischiefes did torment; good. 276 When that infernall monster, having kest Death better were, death did he oft desire, His wearie foe into that living well, Gan high advaunce his broad discoloured brest But death will never come when needes require. Whom so dismayd when that his foe beheld, He cast1 to suffer him no more respire,5 250 But gan his sturdy sterne about to weld, And him so strongly stroke, that to the ground him feld. 2 boiled. • breathe. • burned. • tail. 15 Fit to decke maydens bowres, Sweete Themmes, runne softly, till I There, in a meadow, by the rivers side, A flocke of nymphes I chaunced to espy, 20 All lovely daughters of the flood thereby, With goodly greenish locks all loose untyde, As each had bene a bryde: And each one had a little wicker basket, Made of fine twigs entrayled curiously, 25 In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket; And with fine fingers cropt full feateously10 The tender stalkes on hye. |