Thursday, June 14, 2012

FROM AMORETTI: SONNET 67 BY EDMUND SPENSER (ca. 1552-1599)

                                               Like as a huntsman after a weary chase
                                               Seeing the game from him escap'd away
                                             Sits down to rest him in some shady place
                                             With panting hounds  beguiled of their prey:
                                                So after long pursuit and vain assay,
                                            When I all weary  had the chase forsook,
                                            The gentle deer return'd the self same way,
                                            Thinking to quench her thirst at the next brook.
                                               There she beholding me with milder look,
                                             Sought not to fly, but fearless still did bide:
                                             Till I in hand her yet half trembling took,
                                             And with her own goodwill her firmly tied 
                                           Strange thing, me seem'd, to see a beast so wild,
                                             So goodly won, with her own will beguil'd.


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