Doth bring unto the walle,
To blowe the trump in her dismaye,
Fearing her fort may falle.

On force of wordes she much relies
Her foe without to keepe,
And parleyeth with her two bright eyes
When they her dyke would leape.

Yet natheless the more she strives,
The lesse she keepes him out,
For she hath traitors in her camp
That keepe her still in doubt.

The first and worst of these the Fleshe,
Then womans Vanitie
That still is caughte within the meshe
Of guilefull Flatterie.

These traitors ope the gate at length;
And in, with sword in hande,
Came raging Love, and all her strength
No longer can withstande.

Prudence and Chastitie both to
Submit unto the foe;
And female Courage nought can doe
But down her walls must goe.

She needes must yield her castle strong,