71.
His second sonne, my brother Richard hight,
A hopefull youth, whom nature’s hand had sto’d
With sweetes of youth, as he, for his delight,
Did range this wood, was through the bodie gor’d
By sauage beasts, whose death my sire deplor’d
With bitter teares: yet could not quench the fire
Of Ioue’s fierce wrath, so moued was his ire.
72.
Rufus, his third borne sonne, in that same wood,