A Damsel Deserted by Her Lover

Beside a fountain fair and bright,
Within a garden that was dight
With greenest grass and flowers of white,
Seated beneath a spreading tree,
Where glad birds sang of Spring's delight,
I found alone in piteous plight
The maid that doth my true love scorn.

A damsel she most wondrous fair,
And to high rank and riches heir,
But when I deemed this lady rare
By the bird's song would gladdened be,
And the green garment Spring doth wear,
And graciously would hear my prayer.
Anon she weepeth all forlorn.

Sore by the fountain did she grieve,
And many a heavy sigh did heave:
"My heart Thou dost of joy bereave,
O Jesu, heavenly king! " she cried;
"And through Thy shame none can conceive
My sorrow, for the bravest leave
Our country, e'en as Thou hast willed.

"To Thee my love his way doth wend —
My gentle, fair, and gracious friend —
With me fierce woes without an end,
Weeping, and longings vain abide:
Curs'd be King Louis that did send
To bid all men Christ's tomb defend —
Whereby my breast with grief is filled."

In pity of her grievous teen
I nearer drew, " Fair maid, I ween,"
I said, "such sadness ne'er hath been,
Why dim the beauty of thy face?
What doth avail thee grief so keen,
Since He that giveth woods their green
Can give thee gladness as of yore? "

"My lord," quoth she, "full well I know,
God will to me great mercy show;
In heaven is endless joy I trow,
For me and other sinners base:
But here of that whence joy doth flow
He giveth nought — yet why this woe,
For small to me the love he bore."