But brandish'd high, in an ill-omen'd Hour
To Thee, proud , behold thy justest Fear,
The Master Sword, Disposer of thy Power:
'Tis That which  gave the  Peer.
He took the Gift: Nor ever will I sheath
This Steel, (so  high Behests ordain)
The General said, unless by Glorious Death
Absolv'd, 'till Conquest has confirm'd Your Reign.
Returns like these Our Mistress bids us make,
When from a foreign Prince a Gift Her  take.