Then here to see all desolate and wast,
Despoyled of those ioyes and iollyhead,[588]
Which with those gentle shepherds here I wont to lead.
When Calidore these ruefull newes had raught, xxxiii
His hart quite deaded was with anguish great,
And all his wits with doole were nigh distraught,
That he his face, his head, his brest did beat,
And death it selfe vnto himselfe did threat;
Oft cursing th’heauens, that so cruell were
To her, whose name he often did repeat;