Page:Tales from Chaucer.djvu/121

 who was more beautiful to behold than the lily upon its tall and slender stalk of green, and fresher than the young flowers in May, (for her complexion rivalled the blushing wild-rose) had arisen according to her custom at break of day to do honour to that sweet season of the year; for the slothful and ungentle heart claims no kindred with the lovely May. Her dress was elegant and precise; and her golden hair, braided in tresses, flowed down her back. As the sun was climbing the heavens, she walked up and down the garden, gathering the many-coloured flowers to weave into a garland for her head; and like an angel she sang in the clear air of morning. The thick and strong walls of the tower, which formed the dungeon-keep to the castle, that confined these knights, adjoined the garden in which Emily was taking her pleasure.

In that bright sun and clear morning, Palamon, the woful prisoner, had, as was his custom, with the permission of his gaoler, been taking his walk in an upper chamber of the castle, from whence he had a view of all the noble city, and could look immediately