Lyke as a huntsman, after weary chace, Seeing the game from him escapt away, Sits downe to rest him in some shady place, With panting hounds beguiled of their pray: So, after long pursuit and vaine assay, When I all weary had the chace forsooke, The gentle deare returnd the selfe-same way, Thinking to quench her thirst at the next brooke. There she, beholding me with mylder looke, Sought not to fly, but fearlesse still did bide: Till I in hand her yet halfe trembling tooke, And with her owne goodwill hir fyrmely tyde. Strange thing, me seemd, to see a beast so wyld, So goodly wonne, with her owne will beguyld. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FATHER O'FLYNN by ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES AFTER A JOURNEY by THOMAS HARDY ON A FLOWER FROM THE FIELD OF GRUTLI by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS WRINKLES by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR ARCADIA: THE BARGAIN by PHILIP SIDNEY SONG AT THE FEAST OF BROUGHAM CASTLE; UPON RSTORATION OF LORD CLIFFORD by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE TRANCE by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE ON A YOUNG BRIDE DROWNED IN THE BOSPHORUS by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS |