Too late it was, to Satyres to be told,
Or ever hope recover her againe:
In vaine he seekes that having cannot hold.
So fast he carried her with carefull paine,
That they the woods are past, and come now to the plaine.
XXXIV
The better part now of the lingring day,
They traveild had, whenas they farre espide
A weary wight forwandring by the way,