And will not set her free, doubt not my faith:” 
    When I beheld her with disdain and wrath
    So fill’d, that to relate it would demand
    A better muse than mine:  her virtuous hand
    Had quickly quench’d those gilded fiery darts
    Which, dipp’d in beauty’s pleasure, poison hearts. 
    Neither Camilla, nor the warlike host
    That cut their breasts, could so much valour boast
    Nor Caesar in Pharsalia fought so well,
    As she ’gainst him who pierceth coats of mail;
    All her brave virtues arm’d, attended there,
    (A glorious troop!) and marched pair by pair: 
    Honour and blushes first in rank; the two
    Religious virtues make the second row;
    (By those the other women doth excel);
    Prudence and Modesty, the twins that dwell
    Together, both were lodged in her breast: 
    Glory and Perseverance, ever blest: 
    Fair Entertainment, Providence without,
    Sweet Courtesy, and Pureness round about;
    Respect of credit, fear of infamy;
    Grave thoughts in youth; and, what not oft agree,
    True Chastity and rarest Beauty; these
    All came ’gainst Love, and this the heavens did please,
    And every generous soul in that full height. 
    He had no power left to bear the weight;
    A thousand famous prizes hardly gain’d
    She took; and thousand glorious palms obtained. 
    Shook from his hands; the fall was not more strange
    Of Hannibal, when Fortune pleased to change
    Her mind, and on the Roman youth bestow
    The favours he enjoy’d; nor was he so
    Amazed who frighted the Israelitish host—­
    Struck by the Hebrew boy, that quit his boast;
    Nor Cyrus more astonish’d at the fall
    The Jewish widow gave his general: 
    As one that sickens suddenly, and fears
    His life, or as a man ta’en unawares
    In some base act, and doth the finder hate;
    Just so was he, or in a worse estate: 
    Fear, grief, and shame, and anger, in his face
    Were seen:  no troubled seas more rage:  the place
    Where huge Typhoeus groans, nor Etna, when
    Her giant sighs, were moved as he was then. 
    I pass by many noble things I see
    (To write them were too hard a task for me),
    To her and those that did attend I go: 
    Her armour was a robe more white than snow;
    And in her hand a shield like his she bare
    Who slew Medusa; a fair pillar there
    Of jasp was next, and with a chain (first wet
    In Lethe flood) of jewels fitly set,
    Diamonds, mix’d with topazes (of old
    ’Twas worn by ladies, now ’tis not) first hold
    She caught, then bound him fast; then such revenge
    She took as might suffice.  My thoughts did change
    And I, who wish’d him victory before,
    Was satisfied he now could hurt no more. 
    I cannot in my rhymes the names contain