| |
| SO cruel prison how could betide, alas! | |
| As proud Windsor? Where I in lust and joy, | |
| With a king’s son, my childish years did pass, | |
| In greater feast than Priam’s sons of Troy; | |
| Where each sweet place returns a taste full sour. | 5 |
| The large green courts, where we were wont to rove, | |
| With eyes upcast unto the maiden’s tower, | |
| And easy sighs, such as folk draw in love. | |
| The stately seats, the ladies bright of hue, | |
| The dances short, long tales of great delight; | 10 |
| With words and looks that tigers could but rue, | |
| When each of us did plead the other’s right. | |
| The palm play, where desported for the game, | |
| With dazed eyes oft we, by gleams of love, | |
| Have missed the ball, and got sight of our dame, | 15 |
| To bait her eyes, which kept the leads above. | |
| The gravelled ground, with sleeves tied on the helm, | |
| On foaming horse with swords and friendly hearts; | |
| With cheer as though one should another whelm, | |
| Where we have fought, and chased oft with darts. | 20 |
| With silver drops the meads yet spread for ruth; | |
| In active games of nimbleness and strength, | |
| Where we did strain, trained with swarms of youth, | |
| Our tender limbs that yet shot up in length. | |
| The secret groves, which oft we made resound | 25 |
| Of pleasant plaint, and of our ladies’ praise; | |
| Recording oft what grace each one had found, | |
| What hope of speed, what dread of long delays. | |
| The wild forést, the clothed holts with green; | |
| With reins availed, and swift ybreathéd horse, | 30 |
| With cry of hounds, and merry blasts between, | |
| Where we did chase the fearful hart of force. | |
| The void walls eke that harbored us each night: | |
| Wherewith, alas! revive within my breast | |
| The sweet accord, such sleeps as yet delight; | 35 |
| The pleasant dreams, the quiet bed of rest; | |
| The secret thoughts, imparted with such trust; | |
| The wanton talk, the divers change of play; | |
| The friendship sworn, each promise kept so just, | |
| Wherewith we passed the winter night away. | 40 |
| And with this thought the blood forsakes the face; | |
| The tears berain my cheeks of deadly hue: | |
| The which, as soon as sobbing sighs, alas! | |
| Up-suppéd have, thus I my plaint renew: | |
| “O place of bliss! renewer of my woes! | 45 |
| Give me account, where is my noble fere? | |
| Whom in thy walls thou dost each night enclose; | |
| To other lief; but unto me most dear.” | |
| Echo, alas! that doth my sorrow rue, | |
| Returns thereto a hollow sound of plaint. | 50 |
| Thus I alone, where all my freedom grew, | |
| In prison pine, with bondage and restraint; | |
| And with remembrance of the greater grief, | |
| To banish the less, I find my chief relief. | |
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