Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love, * * * * * * 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 pa** 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.