Xliv

The false Duessa, now Fidessa hight, Heard how in vaine Fradubio did lament, And knew well all was true. But the good knight Full of sad feare and ghastly dreriment, When all this speech the living tree had spent, The bleeding bough did thrust into the ground, That from the bloud he might be innocent, And with fresh clay did close the wooden wound: Then turning to his Lady, dead with feare her found.