Her bleeding, faint, disorder'd, woe-begon,
Stretcht on the bank beside the fatal thorn,
Venus who came to seek her with her son,
Beheld. She stop'd: And albe heav'nly born,
Ruthful of others woe, began to mourn.
The loss of Venus' smiles sick nature found:
As frost-nipt drops the bloom, the birds forelorn
Sit hush'd, the faded sun spreads dimness round;
The clatt'ring thunders crash, and earthquakes rock the ground.