XL.
As good to write, as for to lie and groan.
O STELLA dear! how much thy power hath wrought!
Thou hast my mind, none of the basest, brought
My still-kept course, while others sleep, to moan.
Alas, if from the height of Virtue's throne,
Thou canst vouchsafe the influence of a thought
Upon a wretch, that long thy grace hath sought;
Weigh then, how I, by thee, am overthrown!
And then, think thus, "Although thy beauty be
Made manifest by such a victory;
Yet noblest conquerors do wracks avoid."
Since then thou hast so far subduèd me
That in my heart I offer still to thee.
O do not let thy temple be destroyed!
XLI.
Having this day, my horse, my hand, my lance
Guided so well; that I obtained the prize:
Both by the judgment of the English eyes;
And of some sent by that sweet enemy, France!
Horsemen, my skill in horsemanship advance;
Townsfolk, my strength; a daintier judge applies
His praise to sleight, which from good use doth rise;
Some lucky wits impute it but to chance;
Others, because, of both sides, I do take
My blood from them who did excel in this;
Think Nature me a man-at-arms did make.
How far they shot awry! The true cause is,
STELLA lookt on, and from her heavenly face
Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race.
