The Works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 12. John Dryden

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      Some of laurir, and some of okis bene,

      Some of hawthorne, and some of the wodebind,

      And many mo which I have not in mind.

      And so they came ther horse freshly stirring

      With bloudy sownis of ther trompis loud;

      There se I many an uncouth disguising

      In the array of thilkè knightis proud;

      And at the last as evenly as they coud

      They toke ther place in middis of the mede,

      And every knight turnid his horsis hede

      To his felow, and lightly laid a spere

      Into the rest, and so justis began

      On every part aboutin here and there;

      Some brake his spere, some threw down horse and man,

      About the felde astray the stedis ran;

      And to behold their rule and govirnance

      I you ensure it was a grete plesaunce.

      And so the justis last an hour and more

      But tho that crownid were in laurir grene

      Did win the prise; their dintis were so sore

      That there was none agenst them might sustene,

      And the justing allè was left off clene;

      And fro ther horse the nine alight anon,

      And so did all the remnaunt everichone;

      And forth they yede togidir twain and twain,

      That to behold it was a worthy sight,

      Toward the ladies on the grenè plain,

      That song and dauncid, as I said now right;

      The ladies as sone as they godely might

      They brakin off both the song and the dance

      And yede to mete them with full glad semblaunce:

      And every lady toke full womanly

      By the hond a knight, and so forth they yede

      Unto a faire laurir that stode fast by,

      With levis laid, the boughis of grete brede,

      And to my dome ther nevir was indede

      A man that had sene half so faire a tre,

      For undirneth it there might well have be

      An hundrid persons at ther own plesaunce

      Shadowid fro the hete of Phœbus bright,

      So that they shouldin have felt no grevance

      Neithir for rain, ne haile, that them hurt might;

      The savour eke rejoice would any wight

      That hed be sick or melancholious,

      It was so very gode and vertuous.

      And with grete rev'rence they enclinid low

      Unto the tre so sote and fair of hew,

      And aftir that within a litil throw

      They all began to sing and daunce of new;

      Some song of love, some plaining of untrew,

      Environing the tre that stode upright,

      And evir yede a lady and a knight.

      And at the last I cast mine eie aside,

      And was ware of a lusty company

      That came roming out of the feldè wide,

      And hond in hond a knight and a lady,

      The ladies all in surcotes, that richly

      Purfilid were with many a rich stone,

      And every knight of grene ware mantlis on,

      Embroulid wele, so as the surcots were,

      And everich had a chapelet on her hed,

      [Which did right wele upon the shining here]

      Makid of godely flouris white and red,

      The knightis eke that they in hondè led

      In sute of them ware chaplets everichone,

      And before them went minstrels many one;

      As harpis, pipis, lutis, and sautry,

      Allè in grene, and on ther hedis bare

      Of diverse flouris made ful craftily,

      Al in a sute, godely chaplets they ware,

      And so dauncing into the mede they fare,

      In mid the which they found a tuft that was

      Al ovirsprad with flouris in compas:

      Whereto they enclined evèrichone

      With grete revèrence, and that full humbly;

      And at the last there tho began anon

      A lady for to sing right womanly

      A bargaret in praising the daisie,

      For (as methought) among her notis swete

      She said Si douce est la Margarete!

      Then they allè answerid her in fere

      So passingly well and so plesauntly,

      That it was a most blisfull noise to here;

      But I 'not how it happid, sodainly

      As about none the sonne so fervently

      Waxe hotè that the pretty tendir floures

      Had lost the beauty of their fresh collours.

      For shronke with hete the ladies eke to brent,

      That they ne wist where they them might bestow,

      The knightis swelt, for lack of shade nie shent,

      And aftir that within a litil throw

      The wind began so sturdily to blow

      That down goth all the flowris everichone,

      So that in all the mede there laft not one,

      Save such as succoured were among the leves

      Fro every storme that mightè them assaile,

      Growing undir the heggis and thick greves;

      And aftir that there came a storme of haile

      And rain in fere, so that withoutin faile

      The ladies ne the knightis n'ade o' thred

      Dry on them, so drooping wet was ther wede.

      And when the storme was clene passid away

      Tho in the white, that stode undir the tre,

      They felt nothing of all the grete affray

      That they in grene without had in ybe;

      To them they yede for routh and for pite,

      Them to comfort aftir their grete disese,

      So fain they were the helplesse for to ese.

      Than I was ware how one of them in grene

      Had on a coron rich and well-fitting,

      Wherefore I demid well she was a quene,

      And tho in grene on her were awaiting;

      The ladies then in white that were coming

      Towardis them, and the knightis in fere,

      Began to comfort them and make them chere.

      The quene in white, that was of grete beauty,

      Toke by the honde the quene that was in grene,

      And seidè, Sustir, I have grete pity

      Of your annoy and of your troublous tene

      Wherein ye and your company have bene

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