And having none to let; to wood did wend.
Ah, where were ye this while, his shepherd peers?
To whom alive was nought so dear as he.
And ye fair maids, the matches of his years!
Which in his grace, did boast you most to be?
And where were ye, when he of you had need,
To stop his wound that wondrously did bleed?
Ah, wretched boy! the shape of drearihead!
And sad ensample of man's sudden end!