And courts the weary champion to her bed.
We women, too too credulous, alas!
Think what we fear will surely come to pass.
160Yet, while before the leaguer thou dost lie,
Thy picture is some pleasure to my eye;
That, I caress in words most kind and free,
And lodge it on my breast, as I would thee.
There must be something in it more than Art,
'Twere very thee, could it thy mind impart;