From his tall steed, he rusht into the thicke,
And soone arriued, where that sad pourtraict
Of death and dolour[468] lay, halfe dead, halfe quicke,
In whose white alabaster brest did sticke
A cruell knife, that made a griesly wound,
From which forth gusht a streme of gorebloud thick,
That all her goodly garments staind around,
And into a deepe sanguine dide the grassie ground.
Pittifull spectacle of deadly smart, xl
Beside a bubbling fountaine low she lay,