More queenly than of old, how we must woo,
Ere she will melt? The halter’s on our necks,
Kick as it likes us, I and you.
XLVIII.
Certain it is, if Beauty has disdained
Her ancient conquests, with an aim thus high:
If this, if that, if more, the fight is gained.
But can she keep her followers without fee?
Yet ah! to hear anew those ladies cry,
He who’s for us, for him are we!