And gaynst the ground him selfe plunge with such force,
As if the life forthwith should leaue the corps.
86.
With smoke of sighs sometyme I might beholde,
The place all dimde, like to the morning mist:
And strait agayne the teares how they downrold
Alongst his cheekes, as if the riuers hyst:
Whose flowing streames ne where no soner whist,
But to the stars such dreadfull shouts hee sent,
As if the throne of mighty Ioue should rent.