His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth, (177)
That from the cold stone sparks of fire do fly; (178)
Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth, (179)
Which must be lode-star to his lustful eye; (180)
And to the flame thus speaks advisedly,
'As from this cold flint I enforced this fire, (182)
So Lucrece must I force to my desire.'