This faire kinge’s daughter Canace, That on her finger bare the quainte ring, Through which she understood well every thing That any fowl may in his leden* sayn, **language <29> And could him answer in his leden again; Hath understoode what this falcon said, And well-nigh for the ruth* almost she died;. *pity And to the tree she went, full hastily, And on this falcon looked piteously; And held her lap abroad; for well she wist The falcon muste falle from the twist* *twig, bough When that she swooned next, for lack of blood. A longe while to waite her she stood; Till at the last she apake in this mannere Unto the hawk, as ye shall after hear: “What is the cause, if it be for to tell, That ye be in this furial* pain of hell?” *raging, furious Quoth Canace unto this hawk above; “Is this for sorrow of of death; or loss of love? For; as I trow,* these be the causes two; *believe That cause most a gentle hearte woe: Of other harm it needeth not to speak. For ye yourself upon yourself awreak;* *inflict Which proveth well, that either ire or dread* *fear Must be occasion of your cruel deed, Since that I see none other wight you chase: For love of God, as *do yourselfe grace;* *have mercy on Or what may be your help? for, west nor east, yourself* I never saw ere now no bird nor beast That fared with himself so piteously Ye slay me with your sorrow verily; I have of you so great compassioun. For Godde’s love come from the tree adown And, as I am a kinge’s daughter true, If that I verily the causes knew Of your disease,* if it lay in my might, *distress I would amend it, ere that it were night, So wisly help me the great God of kind.** *surely **nature And herbes shall I right enoughe find, To heale with your hurtes hastily.” Then shriek’d this falcon yet more piteously Than ever she did, and fell to ground anon, And lay aswoon, as dead as lies a stone, Till Canace had in her lap her take, Unto that time she gan of swoon awake: And, after that she out of swoon abraid,* *awoke Right in her hawke’s leden thus she said: