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More than the half of what he said

Have I forgotten, by my head,

And do but know ’twas false and bad,

It seemed as he an anvil had

For forging lies.

Had it but been

Known to the Lover, well I ween

That he had slain him, for none can

Compare with this most noble man

For knighthood. In his bounteous deeds

Of largess he by far exceeds

King Arthur, nay, his gifts are grander

Than those of far-famed Alexander.

Did he but own unbounded store

Of gold, like those famed men of yore,

His bounties far would overgo

Their gifts a hundred times I trow.

Yea, did he wealth of goods possess

To keep pace with his generousness,

Most bounteous were be of all men.

I pray you take this chaplet then,

Its flowers are sweet as dittany.

I fear ’twould bring ill hap to me,

Fair-Welcome cried, whose very frame

Trembled with fear, while went and came

The colour to his cheeks.

She thrust

The gift on him, as needs he must

Accept it, though his hand away

He turned, and said: Forgive me, pray,

VOL. II.