Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/70

 ANONYMOUS

I am true love that false was never; My sister, man's soul, I loved her thus. Because we would in no wise dissever I left my kingdom glorious. I purveyed her a palace full precious; She fled, I followed, I loved her so That I suffered this pain piteous Quta amore languco. I saved her from beating, and bhc hath me bet; I clothed her in grace and heavenly light; This bloody shirt she hath on me set; For longing of Jove yet would I not let; Sweet strokes are these: lo! I have loved her ever as I her het Quta amore langueo.

I crowned her with bliss and she me with thorn; I led her to chamber and jihc me to die, I brought her to worship and she me to scorn; I did her reverence and she me villany. To love that lovcth is no maistry, Her hate made never my love her foe Abk me then no question why Quta amore /angueo. These gloves were given me when I her sought; They be not white, but red and wan, Embroidered with blood my spouse them brought. They will not off; I loose hem nought:

het] promised.

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