I can no more, but tell how there is seene
Fayre Ilium fall in burning red gledes downe,
And, from the soile, great Troy, Neptunus’ towne.
69.
Here from when scarce I could mine[1558] eyes withdrawe
That fylde with teares as doth the springing well,
We passed on so far forth till we sawe
Rude Acheron, a lothsome lake to tell,
That boyles and bubs vp swelth as blacke as hell,
Where griesly Charon, at theyr fixed tyde,