The angyr, na the wretchyt dome
That is couplyt to foule thyrldome.
Bot gyff he had assayit it,
Than all perquer[1] he suld it wyt;
And suld think fredome mar to prise
Than all the gold in warld that is.
Thus contrar thngis evirmar
Discoweryngis off the tothir ar.
'O PALEYS,[2] whylom croune of houses alle,
Enlumined with sonne of alle blisse!
O ring, fro which the ruby is out-falle,
O cause of wo, that cause hast been of lisse![3]
Yet, sin I may no bet,[4] fayn wolde I kisse
Thy colde dores, dorste I for this route;[5]
And fare-wel shryne, of which the seynt is oute!’
Fro thennesforth he rydeth up and doun,
And every thing com him to remembraunce
As he rood forth by places of the toun
In whiche he whylom hadde al his plesaunce.
‘Lo, yond saugh I myn owene lady daunce;
And in that temple, with hir eyen clere,
Me caughte first my righte lady dere.
And yonder have I herd ful lustily
My dere herte laughe, and yonder pleye
