Classic Poem

CLIX

By bolstered words I am borne in hand,
As who saith, bidden I should obey.
Ye may threat twice ere once ye may
Prevail by power to underband
That I should yield and not withstand.
Your words do well your wits bewray,
Weening to bear so great a sway
To ween my will when ye command.
The free ye think to force by fear
To seek obedience of the thrall.
Your threat'ning words, of power but small,
Is wasted wind to use them here;
For like acquaintance of like scathe
Is my ‘no fears’ of your ‘no faith’.