But Corin, he had haukes to lure,
And forced more the field:[383]
Of lovers lawe he toke no cure;
For once he was begilde. 20
Harpalus prevailed nought,
His labour all was lost;
For he was fardest from her thought,
And yet he loved her most.
Therefore waxt he both pale and leane, 25
And drye as clot of clay:
His fleshe it was consumed cleane;
His colour gone away.
His beard it had not long be shave;
His heare hong all unkempt: 30
A man most fit even for the grave,
Whom spitefull love had spent.
His eyes were red and all 'forewacht;'[384][385]
His face besprent with teares:
It semde unhap had him long 'hatcht,' 35
In mids of his dispaires.
His clothes were blacke, and also bare;
As one forlorne was he;
Upon his head alwayes he ware
A wreath of wyllow tree. 40
His beastes he kept upon the hyll,
And he sate in the dale;
And thus with sighes and sorrowes shril,
He gan to tell his tale.
Oh Harpalus! (thus would he say) 45
Unhappiest under sunne!
The cause of thine unhappy day,
By love was first begunne.
For thou wentest first by sute to seeke
A tigre to make tame, 50
That settes not by thy love a leeke;
But makes thy griefe her game.
As easy it were for to convert
The frost into 'a' flame;
As for to turne a frowarde hert, 55
Whom thou so faine wouldst frame.