With that I sawe the people looke aside, To vewe a mourning voice: I heard thereby It was my woefull mother by, that cry’d “Lo _Sabrine_, bound at brinke of death I lie.” What pen, or tongue, or teares with weeping eye Could tell my woes, that sawe my mother bound On waters shoare, wherein shee should bee droun’d! 16. With that I fell before the Queene, and pray’d For mercy, but with fierie eyes shee bent Her browes on mee: “Out bastard vile (shee sayd) Thou wot’st not yet wherefore for thee I sent.” “O Queene (quoth I) haue pittie, bee content, And if thou minde of mercy ought to showe, Drowne mee, and let my mother harmelesse goe. 17. “For why, shee was a Prince his daughter, borne In _Germany_, and thence was brought away Perforce, by _Humber_, who by warres forlorne Thy King as captiue tooke her for his pray. Thou mayst full well her case with reason weye. What could shee doe, what more then shee or I Thy captiues now, thine owne to liue or die? 18. “Take pittie then on Princely race, O Queene, Haue[325] pittie, if remorce may ought require, Take pittie, on a captiue thrise hath beene, Let pittie pearce the rage of all thine ire. But if thy breast burne with reuenging fire, Then let my death quench out that fuming flame, Sith of thy husband’s bloud and hers I came.” 19. Much more I sayd while teares out streaming went, But nought of ease at all thereby I gayn’d. My mother eke, did, as shee lay, lament, Wherewith my heart a thousand fold shee payn’d. And though the Queene my playnts to fauour fayn’d, Yet at the last shee bad shee should prepare Her selfe to die, and end her course of care. 20. Then all her friends my mother _Elstride_ nam’d, And pleasures past, and bade them all adue: Eke as shee thus her last farewell had fram’d, With losse of him from whom her sorowes grue. At length to mee (which made my heart to rue) Shee sayd: “Farewell my childe, I feare thy fall. “Ten thowsand times adue, my _Sabrine_ small.” 21. And as the cruell caytiffes came to take Her vp, to cast and drowne her in the floud, I fast mine armes about her clipt did make, And cry’d, “O Queene let mercy meeke thy moode, Doe rather reaue my heart of vitall bloud, Then thus I liue:” with that they slakt my hold, And drencht my mother in the waters cold. 22.