Her wealked face with woefull teares bee sprent,
Her colour pale, and,[1499] as it seemed her best,
In woe and plaint reposed was her rest:
And, as the stone that drops of water weares,
So dented were her chekes with fall of teares,
13.
Her eyes swollen[1500] with flowing streams aflote,
Where, with her lookes throwne vp full piteously,
Her forcelesse hands together oft shee smote,
With dolefull shrikes, that eckoed in the skye: