Poem by Edmund Spenser

Amoretti 67. Lyke as a huntsman, after weary chace

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 deer 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 own goodwill her fyrmely tyde.
  Strange thing, me seemd, to see a beast so wyld
  So goodly wonne, with her owne will beguyld. 

1. Amoretti 46. When my abodes prefixed time is spent
2. Amoretti 13. In that proud port which her so goodly graceth
3. Amoretti 23. Penelope, for her Ulisses sake
4. Amoretti 69. The famous warriors of the anticke world
5. Amoretti 42. The love which me so cruelly tormenteth

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