FAIR was the morn
when the fair queen of love, * * * * * * * |
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Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove, | |
For Adons sake, a youngster proud and wild; | |
Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill: | |
Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds; | 5 |
She, silly queen, with more than loves good will, | |
Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds: | |
Once, quoth she, did I see a fair sweet youth | |
Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar, | |
Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth! | 10 |
See, in my thigh, quoth she, here was the sore. | |
She showed hers; he saw more wounds than one, | |
And blushing fled, and left her all alone. |