In my poore trembling heart impressed deepe
The feare of death with her too deadly note,
Which oft she shriked through her balefull throte.
145.
The murmuring noise of the rude waters rore
Which not far thence into the seas do fall,
Where Seuerne’s billowes do beat vpon the shore,
And bellowing winds which iustling gainst the wall
Like death’s shrill whistlers at the cranies call,
Through darknesse and deepe silence of the night,