Like as a huntsman after 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.