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Philip Sidney - Sonnet 49: I On My Horse
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I on my horse, and Love on me doth try 
Our horsemanships, while by strange work I prove 
A horseman to my horse, a horse to Love; 
And now man`s wrongs in me, poor beast, descry. 

The reins wherewith my rider doth me tie, 
Are humbled thoughts, which bit of reverence move, 
Curb`d in with fear, but with gilt boss above 
Of hope, which makes it seem fair to the eye. 

The wand is will; thou, fancy, saddle art, 
Girt fast by memory, and while I spur 
My horse, he spurs with sharp desire my heart: 

He sits me fast, however I do stir: 
And now hath mademe to his hand so right, 
That in the manage my self takes delight.
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