Vii

Now when the rosy-fingred Morning° faire, Weary of aged Tithones° saffron bed, Had spread her purple robe through deawy aire, And the high hils Titan° discovered, The royall virgin shooke off drowsy-hed; And rising forth out of her baser bowre, Lookt for her knight, who far away was fled, And for her Dwarfe, that wont to wait each houre: Then gan she waile and weepe, to see that woefull stowre.