But misseth bow, and shaftes, and buskins to her knee.
XVII
By vew of her he ginneth to revive
His ancient love, and dearest Cyparisse,[°]
And calles to mind his pourtraiture alive,
How faire he was, and yet not faire to this,[°]
And how he slew with glauncing dart amisse
A gentle Hynd, the which the lovely boy
Did love as life, above all worldly blisse;