VNto his mother straight he weeping came,
and of his griefe complayned:
Who could not chose but laugh at his fond game,
though sad to see him pained.
Think now (quod she) my sonne how great the smart
of those whom thou dost wound:
Full many thou hast pricked to the hart,
that pitty neuer found:
Therefore henceforth some pitty take,
when thou doest spoyle of louers make.
(Edmund Spenser)
More Poetry from Edmund Spenser:
- The Shepheardes Calender: Februarie (Edmund Spenser Poems)
- The Shepheardes Calender: September (Edmund Spenser Poems)
- An Hymne In Honour Of Beautie (Edmund Spenser Poems)
- An Hymne of Heavenly Love (Edmund Spenser Poems)
- An Hymne Of Heavenly Beautie (Edmund Spenser Poems)
- An Hymne In Honour Of Love (Edmund Spenser Poems)