Prata virent

I saw the meadow sweetly set
With many a flower red and bright.
Full lovely is the violet;
The nightingale hath conquered quite
The sore distress that did her wrong.
Now vanished is the winter long:
I have heard her song!

I cast away the care I felt,
When first the green leaves I did see.
Toward me a lady so hath dealt
That evermore my heart must be
Filled full of rapture and delight
Whatever she do from morn to night,
I'll deem it right

My sorrow she hath all removed,
So that no more I pine and ail.
Four thousand ladies would have proved,
Without her help, of no avail.
Her kindness drives my grief away,
And her true love I am to-day,
Whatever folk say.

Henceforth I shall not fear at all
That I may meet with any harm.
Were what I long for to befall,
She soon should lie within my arm
Her beauty's prize I should obtain;
'Twere sweet, methinks, and I were fain
Such bliss to gain.

That toward her so my heart is bent
Vexes and angers not a few.
I'll never fear their discontent;
They lose their toil whate'er they do.
What profits all their scheming base?
They know not what hath taken place
In this brief space!