But misseth bow, and shaftes, and buskins to her knee.
By vew of her he ginneth to reuiue xvii
His ancient loue, and dearest Cyparisse,
And calles to mind his pourtraiture aliue,
How faire he was, and yet not faire to this,
And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse
A gentle Hynd, the which the louely boy
Did loue as life, aboue all worldly blisse;
For griefe whereof the lad n’ould after ioy,
But pynd away in anguish and selfe-wild annoy.