Her mighty bow Clorinda often drew, / And many a sharp and deadly arrow shot; // And from her bow no steeled shaft there flew, / But that some blood the cursed engine got, // Blood of some valiant knight or man of fame, / For that proud shootress scorned weaker game.

The mourners left the funeral heavy-hearted and silent.

I’m a bit of an Eireboo if im honest. An unhealthy level of interest in Ireland. Love reading and learning about Irish history.

And Ioſhua made them that day, hewers of wood, and drawers of water for the Congregation, and for the Altar of the Lord, euen vnto this day, in the place which he ſhould chooſe.