When she saw victory tarry, chid him—‘Why
Dost thou not at one stroke this rebel slay?’
Then generous Love, who holds my heart in fee,
Told of our ancient truce: so from the fight
We straight withdrew our forces, all the three.
Baffled but not dishearten’d she took flight
Scheming new tactics: Love came home with me,
And prompts my measured verses as I write.
57
In autumn moonlight, when the white air wan