She, when she saw her love in such a plight, With curdled blood and filthy gore deformed; That wont to be with flowers and garlands dight, And her dear favours dearly well adorned. Her face, the fairest face that eye might see, She likewise did deform, like him to be. Her yellow locks that shone so bright and long, As sunny beams in fairest summer's day; She fiercely tore: and with outrageous wrong, From her red cheeks, the roses rent away. And her fair breast, the treasury of joy; She spoiled thereof, and fillèd with annoy. His pallid face, impicturèd with death; She bathèd oft with tears and drièd oft: And with sweet kisses, sucked the wasting breath Out of his lips, like lilies pale and soft. And oft she called to him, who answered nought; But only by his looks did tell his thought. The rest of her impatient regret And piteous moan, the which she for him made; No tongue can tell, nor any forth can set: But he whose heart, like sorrow did invade. At last, when pain his vital powers had spent, His wasted life her weary lodge forewent. Which when she saw, she stayèd not a whit, But after him, did make untimely haste: Forthwith her ghost out of her corps did flit, And followed her mate, like turtle chaste. To prove that death, their hearts cannot divide; Which living were in love so firmly tied. The gods, which all things see, this same beheld. And pitying this pair of lovers true; Transformèd them, there lying on the field, Into one flower that is both red and blue. It first grows red, and then to blue doth fade; Like ASTROPHEL, which thereinto was made. And in the midst thereof a star appears, As fairly formed as any star in sky; Resembling STELLA in her freshest years, Forth darting beams of beauty from her eyes: And all the day it standeth full of dew, Which is the tears that from her eyes did flow. That herb of some, "Starlight" is called by name; Of others _Penthia_, though not so well: But thou wherever thou dost find the same, From this day forth do call it _Astrophel_. And whensoever thou it up dost take; Do pluck it softly, for that shepherd's sake. Hereof when tidings far abroad did pass, The shepherds all which lovèd him full dear-- And sure, full dear of all he lovèd was-- Did thither flock to see what they did hear. And when that piteous spectacle they viewed, The same with bitter tears they all bedewed. And every one did make exceeding moan, With inward anguish and great grief opprest; And every one did weep and wail and moan, And means devised to show his sorrow best. That from that hour since first on grassy green, Shepherds kept sheep; was not like mourning seen.