So hath your beautè fro your herte chaced
Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne; 15
For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.
Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced;
I sey yow sooth, me nedeth not to feyne;
_So hath your beautè fro your herte chaced_
_Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne_. 20
Allas! that nature hath in yow compassed
So greet beautè, that no man may atteyne
To mercy, though he sterve for the peyne.
_So hath your beautè fro your herte chaced_
_Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;_ 25
_For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne._