Astrophel and Stella: 49

I on my horse, and Loue on me doth trieOur horsemanships, while by strange worke I proueA horseman to my horse, a horse to Loue;And now mans wrongs in me poore beast descrie.The raine wherewith my Rider doth me tie,Are humbled thoughts, which bit of reuerence moue,Curb'd in with feare, but with guilt bosse aboueOf Hope, which makes it seeme faire to the eye.The Wand is Will, thou Fancie Saddle art,Girt fast by memorie, and while I spurreMy horse, he spurres with sharp desire my hart:He sits me fast, how euer I do sturre:And now hath made me to his hand so right,That in the Manage my selfe takes delight.