|
As a springe-wel under a thorn There was bote of bale, a litel hire a thorn There beside stant a maide, full of love ibounde Whoso wol seche trewe love, in hir it shall be founde |
At the spring-head, under a thorn There was a cure for evil, not long ago There beside it stood a maid, all filled with love unbounded Whosoever seeks true love, in her it shall be founded |
