Vengeance and bloud doth Orcus pit require,
To quench the furies of Achilles yre.
The hatefull land, that worse then Tartare is
And burning thrust excedes of Tantalus,
I here beholde againe, and Troy is this
O, trauell worse, then stone of Sisyphus
And paines that passe the panges of Tityus
To light more lothsome furie hath me sent
Then hooked wheele, that Ixions flesh doth rent.
Remembred is alowe where sprites do dwell
The wicked slaughter'wrought by wyly way▪
Not yet reuenged hath the deepest hell,
Achilles bloud on them that did him slay
But now of vengeance come the yrefull day
And darkest dennes of Tartare from beneath
Conspire the fautes, of them that wrought my death.
Now mischiefe, murder, wrath of hell draweth nere
Aud dyre Phlegethon floud doth bloud require
Achilles death shall he reuenged here
VVith slaughter such as Stygian lakes desyre
Her daughters bloud shal slake the spirites yre,
VVhose sonue we slew, whereof doth yet remayne,
The wrath beneath, and hell shalbe their payne.
From burning lakes the furies wrath I threate,
And fire that nought but streames of bloud may slake
The rage of winde and seas their shippes shall beate,
And Ditis deepe on you shall vengeance take,
The spirites crie out, the earth and seas do quake
The poole of Styx, vngratefull Greekes it seath,
VVith slaughtred bloud reuenge Achilles death.