“With al my mightё, and my beste entente,

With al the faith that mighty god of kynde

Me yaf, sith he me soule and knowing sente,

I chese, and to this bonde ever I me bynde,

To love you best, whyl I have lyf and mynde” —

Thus herde I foules in the dawёninge

Upon the day of saint Valentyne singe.

“Yet chese I, at the ginning, in this entente,

To love you, though I no mercy fynde;

And if you liste I dyed, I wolde assente,

As ever twinne I quik out of this lynde!

Suffyseth me to seen your fetheres ynde” —

Thus herde I foules in the morweninge

Upon the day of saint Valentyne singe.

“And over this, myn hertes lust to-bente,

In honour only of the wodёbynde,

Hoolly I yeve, never to repente

In joye or wo, wher-so that I wynde

Tofore Cupyde, with his eyёn blynde” —

The foules alle, whan Tytan did springe,

With dèvout herte, me thoughte I herde singe!

Lenvoy

Princesse of beautee, to you I represente

This simple dytè, rude as in makinge,

Of herte and wil faithful in myn entente,

Lyk as, this day, foules herde I singe.