So on a day, before the sun was high, Unto a garden fair that was hard by (Wherein they had spread forth their meat and drink, And every comfort that the heart could think), They went--and sported all the whole long day, And this was on the sixth sweet morn of May, When May had painted, with his tender showers, This garden full of fragrant leaves and flowers. The odour of flowers and the fresh scene would have made any heart light that ever was born except one burdened by great sickness or great sorrow. After dinner they began to dance and sing--all save Dorigene, whose heart was sad. He whom she loved best was not among them. There danced, among others, a squire before Dorigene, who was handsomer, and more radiant in array, and fresher than a May morning. He sang and danced better than anybody ever danced before, or will again! And, besides, he was young, strong, and virtuous, and rich and wise, and held in great esteem. This squire, whose name was Aurelius, had long loved the Lady Dorigene, but she knew nothing of it. He did not dare to tell her his grief, and could only sing songs, in which he complained in a general way that he loved some one who regarded him not. He made a great many songs in this strain. But at last, on this day it happened, as Aurelius was her neighbour, and a man of worship and honour, Dorigene fell a-talking with him; and when he saw a chance, Aurelius said to her, “Madam, I wish when Arviragus went over the sea, I had gone whither I could never come back! For well I know you do not care for me. Madam, forget Arviragus: and love me a little, or I shall die!” Dorigene looked at him, and said, “Is this your will? I never knew what you meant. But now, this is my answer: I cannot forget my Arviragus, and I do not care for any one but him!” But afterwards she said in play, “Aurelius, I will love you when you have taken away all the rocks and stones that hinder the ships from sailing. And when you have made the coast so clear that there is not a single stone to be seen, then I will love you best of any man.” For she well knew the rocks could never be moved. But Aurelius was sorely grieved. “Is there no other grace in you?” said he. “No, by that Lord who made me,” Dorigene answered. “Madam, it is an impossibility,” he said; “I must die.” Then came Dorigene’s other friends, who knew nothing of this. They roamed up and down the green alleys, and betook themselves to new sports and new revels; but Aurelius did not mingle with them. He went sorrowfully to his own home, for it seemed as though he felt his heart grow cold. He was so sad that he fell sick, and so suffered a long, long time, telling his trouble to nobody in the world; except to his brother, who was a clerk,[168] and who was very sorry for him. His breast was hole withouten for to sene, see But in his herte ay was the arwe kene. ever