My flesh it shoke and trembled: yet I cryde (alas)
What wight art thou, a foe or else what fawning frend?
If death thou art, I pray thee make an end.
But th’art not death. Art thou some fury sent,
My woefull corps, with paynes, to more torment?
37.
With that shee spake: “I am (quoth shee) thy frend Despayre,
Which in distresse each worldly wight with speede do ayde:
I rid them from their foes, if I to them repayre.
To long from thee by other caytiues was I stayde.