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But kept cold distance, and did thence remove

To spend her living in eternal love.

‘“But O, my sweet, what labour is’t to leave

The thing we have not, mast’ring what not strives,

Paling the place which did no form receive,

Playing patient sports in unconstrainèd gyves!

She that her fame so to herself contrives

The scars of battle scapeth by the flight,

And makes her absence valiant, not her might.

‘“O, pardon me, in that muy boast is true!

The accident which brought me to her eye

Upon the moment did her force subdue,

And now she would the cagèd cloister fly.

Religious love put out religion’s eye.

Not to be tempted would she be immured,

And now, to tempt, all liberty procured.

‘“How mighty then you are, O hear me tell!

The broken bosoms that to me belong

Have emptied all their fountains in my well,

And mine I pour your ocean all among.

I strong o’er them, and you o’er me being strong,

Must for your victory us all congest,

As compound love to physic your cold breast.

‘“My parts had power to charm a sacred nun,

Who disciplined, ay dieted in grace,

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