A Century of Parody and Imitation - Unknown

'He must be holpen; yet how help shall I,

Steeped to the lips in ancient misery,

And by the newer grief apparellèd?

If that I throw these ashes on mine head,

Do this thing for thee,—while about my way

A shadow gathers, and the piteous day,

So wan and bleak for very loneliness,

Turneth from sight of such untruthfulness?'

Therewith he caught an arrow from the sheaf,