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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374431" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnet LXVII</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=374431" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Lyke as a huntsman after weary chace,<br>Seeing the game from him escapt away:<br>sits downe to rest him in some shady place,<br>with panting hounds beguiled of their pray.<br>So after long pursuit and vaine assay,<br>when I all weary had the chace forsooke,<br>the gentle deare returnd the selfe-same way,<br>thinking to quench her thirst at the next brooke.<br>There she beholding me with mylder looke,<br>sought not to fly, but fearelesse still did bide:<br>till I in hand her yet halfe trembling tooke,<br>and with her owne goodwill hir fyrmely tyde.<br>Strange thing me seemed to see a beast so wyld,<br>so goodly wonne with her owne will beguyld.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Edmund+Spenser">Edmund Spenser</a></strong></div>