Shall any other hook take hold on me.
I entered in thy wars a youngling maid,
Thinking thy strife was utmost peace and sweet,
And all my weapons on the ground I laid,
As one secure, undoubting of defeat;
But thou, false tyrant, with rapacious heat,
Didst fall on me amain
With all the grapnels of thine armory.
Then, wound about and fettered with thy chains,
To him, who for my death in evil hour