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It was a Lordings daughter, the fairest one of three
I hat liked of her master, as well as well might be,
Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest that etc could
Her fancie fell a turning.
Long was the combat doubtful, that love with love did
To leave the master louetife, or kill the gallant knight
To put in practife either, alas it was a spite
Vnto the filly damfell.
But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain,
That nothing could be vied, to turn them both to gait
For of the two the truity knight was wounded with dile
Alas the could not heipe it.
Thus art with armes contending, was victor of the day
Which by a gift of learning, did bear the mad way,
Then lullaby the learned man hath got the Lady gay,
For now my fong is ended.
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