Parforce to ground must go the royal maid, To prove it hard or soft the listed plain, And be with such unwonted scorn appaid, That she is nearly maddened by disdain.
Scarce was she thrown, before her trenchant blade She bared, and hurried to avenge the stain.
Cried Aymon's daughter, no less proud of heart, "What art thou doing? Thou my prisoner art."