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 fearelesse still did bide:
    till I in hand her yet halfe trembling tooke,
    and with her owne goodwill hir fyrmely tyde.
Strange thing me seemed to see a beast so wyld,
    so goodly wonne with her owne will beguyld.