Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 1.pdf/137

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One-fourth of all the pain I bare;

And thinking on the Rose I swear,

Woe worse than death my heart did rack,

Yet thence alas ! must turn aback.

HEN was my soul all desolate

For fear I had received checkmate,

Till Reason saw me from her high

And well-built fort, whence she may spy

The country far around. Forth came

From out her tower that gracious dame

Towards where I stood. Nor young nor old

She seemed, and he forsooth were bold

Who called her short or over-tall.

Or cumbrous big, or scanty small,

Of limb or figure. But her eyes

Shone like those glorious stars that rise

Morn-tide and eve. Her head a crown

Bedecked, like queen of high renown.

An angel seemed she, pearl past price,

Born in the realms of paradise,

For neither earth nor Nature bare

A being so surpassing fair.

Sure ’tis, if Holy Writ lie not,

That she the counterfeit hath got