La mere dieu qui maint chetif A retrait de chetivete Par sa grant debonnairte Par sa courtoise courtoisie Au las qui tant l'apele et prie Ignelement s'est demonstree, D'une coronne corronnee Plaine de pierres precieuses Si flamboianz si precieuses Pour pou li euil ne li esluisent. Si netement ainsi reluisent Et resplendissent com la raie Qui en este au matin raie. Tant par a bel et cler le vis Que buer fu mez, ce li est vis, Qui s'i puest assez mirer. "Cele qui te fait soupirer Et en si grant erreur t'a mis," Fait nostre dame, "biau douz amis, Est ele plus bele que moi?" Li chevaliers a tel effroi De la clarte, ne sai que face; Ses mains giete devant sa face; Tel hide a et tel freeur Chaoir se laisse de freeur; Mais cele en qui pitie est toute Li dist: "Amis, or n'aies doute! Je suis cele, n'en doute mie, Qui te doi faire avoir t'amie. Or prens garde que tu feras. Cele que tu miex ameras De nous ii auras a amie." God's Mother who to many a wretch Has brought relief from wretchedness. By her infinite goodness, By her courteous courteousness, To her suppliant in distress Came from heaven quickly down; On her head she bore the crown, Full of precious stones and gems Darting splendour, flashing flames, Till the eye near lost its sight In the keenness of the light, As the summer morning's sun Blinds the eyes it shines upon. So beautiful and bright her face, Only to look on her is grace. "She who has caused you thus to sigh, And has brought you to this end,"-- Said Our Lady,--"Tell me, friend, Is she handsomer than I?" Scared by her brilliancy, the knight Knows not what to do for fright; He clasps his hands before his face, And in his shame and his disgrace Falls prostrate on the ground with fear; But she with pity ever near Tells him:--"Friend, be not afraid! Doubt not that I am she whose aid Shall surely bring your love to you; But take good care what you shall do! She you shall love most faithfully Of us two, shall your mistress be."