From these he passes to those expressions of feeling which apply to lovers generally, ‘qui sont diversement travailez en la fortune d’amour.’ Nothing can be more graceful in its way than the idea and expression of _Bal._ viii, ‘D’estable coer, qui nullement se mue,’ where the poet’s thought is represented as a falcon, flying on the wings of longing and desire in a moment across the sea to his absent mistress, and taking his place with her till he shall see her again. Once more, in _Bal._ xv, the image of the falcon appears, but this time it is a bird which is allowed to fly only with a leash, for so bound is the lover to his lady that he cannot but return to her from every flight. At another time (_Bal._ xviii) the lover is in despair at the hardness of his lady’s heart: drops of water falling will in time wear through the hardest stone; but this example will not serve him, for he cannot pierce the tender ears of his mistress with prayers, how urgent and repeated soever; God and the saints will hear his prayers, but she is harder than the marble of the quarry--the more he entreats, the less she listens, ‘Com plus la prie, et meinz m’ad entendu.’ Again (xiii) his state is like the month of March, now shine, now shower. When he looks on the sweet face of his lady and sees her ‘gentilesse,’ wisdom, and bearing, he has only pure delight; but when he perceives how far above him is her worth, fear and despair cloud over his joy, as the moon is darkened by eclipse. But in any case he must think of her (xxiv); she has so written her name on his heart that when he hears the chaplain read his litany he can think of nothing but of her. God grant that his prayer may not be in vain! Did not Pygmalion in time past by prayer obtain that his lady should be changed from stone to flesh and blood, and ought not other lovers to hope for the same fortune from prayer? He seems to himself to be in a dream, and he questions with himself and knows not whether he is a human creature or no, so absorbed is his being by his love. God grant that his prayer may not be in vain! He removes himself from her for a time (xxv) because of evil speakers, who with their slanders might injure her good name; but she must know that his heart is ever with her and that all his grief and joy hangs upon her, ‘Car qui bien aime ses amours tard oblie.’ But (xxix) she has misunderstood his absence; report tells him that she is angry with him. If she knew his thoughts, she would not be so disposed towards him; this balade he sends to make his peace, for he cannot bear to be out of her love. In another (xxxii) he expresses the deepest dejection: the New Year has come and is proceeding from winter towards spring, but for him there is winter only, which shrouds him in the thickest gloom. His lady’s beauty ever increases, but there is no sign of that kindness which should go with it; love only tortures him and gives him no friendly greeting. To this balade there is no