…孤苦伶仃，孤苦伶仃。我把一切的喜乐和安慰都夺去了，因为我思想的灵，已经离开了，我走到窗前，要看世界和来往的人。至于那个时候，虽然我觉得这段时间可能已经没有了，但幸运的是，这段时间给了我很大的帮助。这时，侍女正紧紧地站在旅游墙旁的一个花园集市上，在角落里站着一个绿树成荫的姑娘——她的魔杖又长又小。到处都是树，山楂树围着，没有人在那里散步，在树林里只有白杨;所以认为bewis和lev{。他是绿色的，比所有的眼睛都要绿。这里的每一个人都可能是敏锐的。e} gren{。e}板油{。它长得那么娇艳，到处都是枝桠，当外面似乎要下雨的时候，它的枝桠到处都是; And on the small{.e} gren{.e} twistis sat The lytill suet{.e} nyghtingale, and song So loud and clere, the ympnis consecrat Off lufis use, now soft, now lowd among, That all the gardyng and the wallis rong Ryght of thaire song and of the copill next Off thaire suete armony, and lo the text: CANTUS "Worschippe, ye that loveris bene, this May, For of your blisse the kalendis are begonne, And sing with us, 'Away, winter, away! Cum, somer, cum, the suete sesoun and sonne!' Awake for schame! that have your hevynnis wonne, And amorously lift up your hedis all, Thank lufe that list you to his merci call." Quhen thai this song had song a lytill thrawe, Thai stent a quhile, and therewith unaffraid, As I beheld and kest myn eyne a-lawe, From beugh to beugh thay hippit and thai plaid, And freschly in thaire birdis kynd arraid Thaire fetheris new, and fret thame in the sonne, And thankit lufe, that had thaire makis wonne. This was the plan{.e} ditee of thaire note, And there-with-all unto my self I thoght, "Quhat lyf is this that makis birdis dote? Quhat may this be, how cummyth it of ought? Quhat nedith it to be so dere ybought? It is nothing, trowe I, bot feynit chere, And that men list to counterfeten chere." Eft wald I think; "O Lord, quhat may this be? That Lufe is of so noble myght and kynde, Lufing his folk, and suich prosperitee Is it of him, as we in bukis fynd? May he oure hert{.e}s setten and unbynd? Hath he upon oure hertis suich maistrye? Or all this is bot feynyt fantasye! "For gif he be of so grete excellence, That he of every wight hath cure and charge, Quhat have I gilt to him or doon offense, That I am thrall, and birdis gone at large, Sen him to serve he myght set my corage? And gif he be noght so, than may I seyne, 'Quhat makis folk to jangill of him in veyne?' "Can I noght ell{.e}s fynd, bot gif that he Be lord, and as a god may lyve and regne, To bynd and louse, and maken thrallis free, Than wold I pray his blisfull grace benigne, To hable me unto his service digne; And evermore for to be one of tho Him trewly for to serve in wele and wo." And there-with kest I doun myn eye ageyne, Quhare as I sawe, walking under the toure, Full secretly, new cummyn hir to pleyne, The fairest or the freschest yong{.e} floure That ever I sawe, me thoght, before that houre, For quhich sodayn abate, anon astert The blude of all my body to my hert. And though I stude abaisit tho a lyte, No wonder was; for-quhy my wittis all Were so overcom with plesance and delyte, Onely throu latting of myn eyen fall, That sudaynly my hert became hir thrall For ever, of free will; for of manace There was no takyn in hir suete face. And in my hede I drewe ryght hastily, And eft-son{.e}s I lent it forth ageyne, And sawe hir walk, that verray womanly, With no wight mo, bot onely wommen tueyne. Than gan I studye in my-self, and seyne, "A! suete, ar ye a warldly cr{.e}ature, Or hevinly thing in likenesse of nature? "Or ar ye god Cupidis owin princesse, And cummyn are to louse me out of band? Or ar ye verray Nature the goddesse, That have depaynted with your hevinly hand This gardyn full of flouris, as they stand? Quhat sall I think, allace! quhat reverence Sall I minister to your excellence? "Gif ye a goddesse be, and that ye like To do me payne, I may it noght astert; Gif ye be warldly wight, that dooth me sike, Quhy lest God mak you so, my derrest hert, To do a sely prisoner thus smert, That lufis yow all, and wote of noght bot wo? And therefor, merci, suete! sen it is so." Quhen I a lytill thrawe had maid my moon, Bewailling myn infortune and my chance, Unknawing how or quhat was best to doon, So fe