By this, lamenting Philomel had ended (1080)
The well-tuned warble of her nightly sorrow, (1081)
And solemn night with slow sad gait descended (1082)
To ugly hell; when, lo, the blushing morrow (1083)
Lends light to all fair eyes that light will borrow:
But cloudy Lucrece shames herself to see, (1085)
And therefore still in night would cloister'd be.