(4)
Her quiver had her pillow's place;
her breaſt lay bare to ev'ry blaſt.
The ſhepherd ſtood and gaz'd his fill;
nought durſt he do, nought durſt he ſay,
Whilſt chance, or elſe perhaps his will,
did guide the god of love that way.
The crafty boy thus ſees her ſleep
whom if ſhe wak'd he durſt not ſee;
Behind her cloſely ſeeks to creep,
before her nap could ended be.
There come, he ſteals her ſhafts away,
and puts his own into their place;
Nor dares he any longer ſtay,
but ere ſhe wakes, he's hence away.
Scarce was he gone, but ſhe awakes,
and ſpies the ſhepherd ſtanding by;
Her bended bow in haſte ſhe takes,
and at the ſimple ſwain lets fly.
Forth flew the ſhaft, and pierc'd his heart,
that to the ground he fell with pain;
Yet up again forthwith he ſtarts.
and to the nymph he ran amain.
Amaz'd to ſee ſo ſtrange a ſight,
ſhe ſhot, and ſhot. but all in vain:
The more his wounds, the more his might,
love yielded ſtrength amidſt his pain.
Her angry eyes were great with tears,
ſhe blam'd her hands, ſhe blam'd her ſkill,
