The woods of Leon now would shrilly sound Oft with his joyous shout and choral hound At length, one morn his disadventurous dart, Lanc'd, as the game was rous'd, at hind or hart, Wing'd through the yielding air its weetless way, And pierc'd unwares a metamorphos'd fay.

The cave in which these beares lay sleeping sound Was but earth, and with her owne weightinesse 571 Upon them fell, and did unwares oppresse; That, for great sorrow of their sudden fate, Henceforth all worlds felicitie I hate.

But when I feele the bitter balefull smart Which her fayre eyes unwares doe worke in mee, That death out of theyr shiny beames doe dart, I thinke that I a new Pandora see, Whom all the gods in councell did agree Into this sinfull world from heaven to send, That she to wicked men a scourge should bee,