Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/289

 Lord, thou rue on me. O wise Lord, if thou be keen To note things amiss that been, I am not worth a shell of bean More than an old mare meagre and lean; For all my wrong-doing with my queen, It grew not of our heartès clean, But it began of her body. For it fell in the hot May I stood within a paven way Built of fair bright stone, perfay, That is as fire of night and day And lighteth all my house. Therein be neither stones nor sticks, Neither red nor white bricks, But for cubits five or six There is most goodly sardonyx And amber laid in rows. It goes round about my roofs, (If ye list ye shall have proofs) There is good space for horse and hoofs, Plain and nothing perilous. For the fair green weather's heat, And for the smell of leavès sweet, It is no marvel, well ye weet, A man to waxen amorous. This I say now by my case That spied forth of that royal place;