Spare, generous victor, spare the slave, <br />Who did unequal war pursue; <br />That more than triumph he might have, <br />In being overcome by you. <br /> <br />In the dispute, whate'er I said, <br />My heart was by my tongue belied; <br />And in my looks you might have read <br />How much I argued on your side. <br /> <br />You, far from danger as from fear, <br />Might have sustain'd an open fight; <br />For seldom your opinions err, <br />Your eyes are always in the right. <br /> <br />Why, fair one, would you not rely <br />On reason's force with beauty's join'd? <br />Could I their prevalence deny, <br />I must at once be deaf and blind. <br /> <br />Alas! not hoping to subdue, <br />I only to the fight aspired: <br />To keep the beauteous foe in view <br />Was all the glory I desired. <br /> <br />But she, howe'er of victory sure, <br />Contemns the wreath too long delay'd: <br />And arm'd with more immediate power, <br />Calls cruel silence to her aid. <br /> <br />Deeper to wound she shuns the fight; <br />She drops her arms, to gain the field; <br />Secures her conquest by her flight; <br />And triumphs, when she seems to yield. <br /> <br />So when the Parthian turn'd his steed, <br />And from the hostile camp withdrew, <br />With cruel skill the backward reed <br />He sent; and, as he fled, he slew.<br /><br />Matthew Prior<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-ode-to-a-lady-she-refusing-to-continue-a-dispute-with-me-and-leaving-me-in-the-argument/
