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HERO AND LEANDER.
107
Still as it, comet-like, brake from her brain,
Would needs have Teras gone, and did refrain
To blow it down: which staring up, dismay'd
The timorous feast, and she no longer staid;
But bowing to the bridegroom and the bride,
Did like a shooting exhalation glide
Out of their sights: the turning of her back
Made them all shriek, it look'd so ghastly black.
O hapless Hero! that most hapless cloud
Thy soon succeeding tragedy foreshow'd.—
Thus all the nuptial crew to joys depart,
But much wrung[1] Hero stood Hell's blackest dart:
Whose wound because I grieve so to display,
I use digressions thus to' increase the day.
The End of the Fifth Sestyad.
- ↑ much-rong, edit. 1606, much-wrong'd, edit. 1637.
