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 XL.

As good to write, as for to lie and groan. O STELLA dear! how much thy power hath wrought! Thou hast my mind, none of the basest, brought My still-kept course, while others sleep, to moan. Alas, if from the height of Virtue's throne, Thou canst vouchsafe the influence of a thought Upon a wretch, that long thy grace hath sought; Weigh then, how I, by thee, am overthrown! And then, think thus, "Although thy beauty be Made manifest by such a victory; Yet noblest conquerors do wracks avoid." Since then thou hast so far subduèd me That in my heart I offer still to thee. O do not let thy temple be destroyed!

XLI.

Having this day, my horse, my hand, my lance Guided so well; that I obtained the prize: Both by the judgment of the English eyes; And of some sent by that sweet enemy, France! Horsemen, my skill in horsemanship advance; Townsfolk, my strength; a daintier judge applies His praise to sleight, which from good use doth rise; Some lucky wits impute it but to chance; Others, because, of both sides, I do take My blood from them who did excel in this; Think Nature me a man-at-arms did make. How far they shot awry! The true cause is, STELLA lookt on, and from her heavenly face Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race.