Now wol I torn unto Arcite agayn, turn That litel wiste how nyh that was his care, know, near Til that fortune hadde brought him in the snare. The busy larke, messager of day, Salueth in hire song the morwe gray; saluteth And fyry Phebus ryseth up so brighte, That al the orient laugheth of the lighte, And with his stremes dryeth in the greves rays, groves The silver dropes, hongyng on the leeves. leaves And Arcite, that is in the court ryal royal[85] With Theseus, his squyer principal, squire Is risen, and loketh on the merye day. And for to doon his observaunce to May, do, ceremony Remembryng on the poynt of his desir, He on his courser, stertyng as the fir, starting, fire Is riden into the feeldes him to pleye fields, play Out of the court, were it a myle or tweye. And to the grove of which that I yow tolde, you By aventure his wey he gan to holde, chance, began To maken him a garland of the greves, make Were it of woodebynde or hawethorn leves, leaves And lowde he song ayens the sonne scheene: sang, against O May,[86] with al thy floures and thy greene, Welcome be thou, wel faire freissche May! I hope that I som grene gete may. some, may get And fro his courser, with a lusty herte, heart Into the grove ful hastily he sterte, started And in a pathe he romed up and doun, roamed Ther as by aventure this Palamoun where, chance Was in a busche, that no man might him see, For sore afered of his deth was he. afraid, death Nothing ne knew he that it was Arcite: God wot he wolde han trowed it ful lite. knows, guessed, little For soth is seyd, goon sithen many yeres, truly, gone, since That feld hath eyen, and the woode hath eeres. eyes, ears