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 So cunningly, Without blemish, for her love Breaks not nor turns aside. I of Miels-de-ben demand Her straight fresh body, She is so supple and young, Her robes can but do her wrong.

Her white teeth, of the Lady Faidita I ask, and the fine courtesy She hath to welcome one, And such replies she lavishes Within her nest; Of Bels Mirals, the rest, Tall stature and gaiety, To make these avail She knoweth well, betide No change nor turning aside.

Ah, Bels Senher, Maent, at last I ask naught from you, Save that I have such hunger for This phantom As I've for you, such flame-lap, And yet I'd rather Ask of you than hold another, Mayhap, right close and kissed. Ah, lady, why have you cast Me out, knowing you hold me so fast!