I had no sooner spoken of a syke,[1511]
But that the storme so rumbled in her brest,
As Eölus could neuer roare the like,
And showers downe raynde from her eyes[1512] so fast,
That all bedreint the place, till, at the last,
Well eased they the dolour of her minde,
As rage of rayne doth swage the stormy winde:
22.
For forth shee paced in her fearefull tale:
“Come, come,” quod shee, “and see what I shall showe,[1513]