Ch. 804: IX

IX

Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love,

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Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove,

For Adon’s sake, a youngster proud and wild;

Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill;

Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds;

She, silly queen, with more than love’s 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!

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.