Of death, that here lye dying every stound,
Yet live perforce in balefull darkenesse bound?
For now three Moones have changed thrice their hew,
And have been thrice hid underneath the ground,
Since I the heavens chearfull face did vew,
O welcome thou, that doest of death bring tydings trew.
XXXIX
Which when that Champion heard, with percing point
Of pitty deare his hart was thrilled sore,