Classic Poem

O fayre and cruell hande that me enchaynde
within the warde of love my auncyent foe
That daynty lymme me thynke shoulde have refraynd
to geve a stroake from whence mighte daunger groe
My harte but newely thrall doth muse to see
my witts so loste myne eyes soo farr to seeke
As that they will not helpe to succour me
they thinke that hand can wounde without dislik
What straunge effect is this that yow doo showe
thoughe Panthasilla with her warlike hande
Coulde force men yelde and geve the overthrow
when she in armes amidste the troups did stand
Yet that this dainty ffyste off yours lykewise
unarmed as itt is and weaponles withall
Shoulde doo on me so greate an enterprise
what chaunce more straunge coulde any man befall.