The poems of George Daniel ... From the original mss. in the British Museum: Hitherto unprinted. Edited, with introduction, notes, and illustrations, portrait, &c. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart: In four volumes |
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 | The poems of George Daniel |  |
Wounded.
See, how my Goddess, from her well-stored Qviver,
Did take a Shaft, and how She hast'ly sent it
At a poor Hart, (poor Heart) and peircèd never;
And therfore, happilie, She rather ment it:
But whither 'twer by Chance, or witting done,
Shee, shee can only tell:
But with the blow he fell;
And thrill'd by her keen Shaft, laments and greiv's alone.
Did take a Shaft, and how She hast'ly sent it
At a poor Hart, (poor Heart) and peircèd never;
And therfore, happilie, She rather ment it:
But whither 'twer by Chance, or witting done,
Shee, shee can only tell:
But with the blow he fell;
And thrill'd by her keen Shaft, laments and greiv's alone.
The gallant Heard, (proud heard,) and happie Heard,
Who never yet were peirc'd; how stately they
Pace ore the fertile Launds! vnhurt, vnfeard:
How now this wounded Heart they drive away,
Who whilome was the fairest Beast impal'd,
The fforsters cheife delight;
By hap, or rather Spight
Pines, Langvishes, and now is Dead, ere he knew what Hee ayld.
Who never yet were peirc'd; how stately they
Pace ore the fertile Launds! vnhurt, vnfeard:
How now this wounded Heart they drive away,
Who whilome was the fairest Beast impal'd,
The fforsters cheife delight;
By hap, or rather Spight
Pines, Langvishes, and now is Dead, ere he knew what Hee ayld.
| The poems of George Daniel | |