The braggart fierce with neck held high
And eyebrows all a-frown,
A maiden's plaything see him lie,
His pride to earth cast down.

Once he did think in angry spite
To crush the virgin fair,
To-day himself, unhappy wight,
He grovels in despair.

He like a girl laments and weeps
And bends with prostrate knee,
While she a man's fierce temper keeps
Nor hears his suppliant plea.

O valiant maid, some mercy show
Now he thy captive is:
Just is thy wrath, but thou dost know
The might of Nemesis.