Thou settest, Love, before these eyes of mine Whenas thy fire I entered the first day, A youngling so beseen with valor, worth and loveliness divine, That never might one find a goodlier, nay, Nor yet his match, I ween. So sore I burnt for him I still must e’en Sing, blithe, of him with thee, my lord most high. And that in him which crowneth my liesse Is that I please him, as he pleaseth me, Thanks to Love debonair; Thus in this world my wish I do possess And in the next I trust at peace to be, Through that fast faith I bear To him; sure God, who seeth this, will ne’er The kingdom of His bliss to us deny. At the end of the third day, Lauretta began thus: No maid disconsolate hath cause as I, alack! Who sigh for love in vain, to mourn her fate. He who moves heaven and all the stars in air made me for His delight Lovesome and sprightly, kind and debonair, E’en here below to give each lofty spright Some inkling of that fair That still in heaven abideth in His sight; But erring men’s unright, Ill knowing me, my worth Accepted not, nay, with dispraise did bate. Erst was there one who held me dear and fain Took me, a youngling maid, Into his arms and thought and heart and brain, Caught fire at my sweet eyes; yea, time, unstayed Of aught, that flits amain And lightly, all to wooing me he laid. I, courteous, nought gainsaid And held him worthy me; But now, woe’s me, of him I’m desolate. Then unto me there did himself present A youngling proud and haught, Renowning him for valorous and gent; He took and holds me and with erring thought To jealousy is bent; Whence I, alack! nigh to despair am wrought, As knowing myself,—brought Into this world for good Of many an one,—engrossed of one sole mate.