The Passionate Pilgrim

Fair was the morn, when the fair queen of love,
Paler for sorrow that 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 pass the 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 on 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.

-William Shakespeare, The Passionate Pilgrim (VII)