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=Here biginneth the Tale of the Clerk of Oxenford.=
Ther is, at the west syde of Itaille,
Doun at the rote of Vesulus the colde,
A lusty playne, habundant of vitaille,
Wher many a tour and toun thou mayst biholde, 60
That founded were in tyme of fadres olde,
And many another delitable sighte,
And Saluces this noble contree highte.
A markis whylom lord was of that londe,
As were his worthy eldres him bifore; 65
And obeisant and redy to his honde (10)
Were alle his liges, bothe lasse and more.
Thus in delyt he liveth, and hath don yore,
Biloved and drad, thurgh favour of fortune,
Bothe of his lordes and of his commune. 70
Therwith he was, to speke as of linage,
The gentilleste y-born of Lumbardye,
A fair persone, and strong, and yong of age,
And ful of honour and of curteisye;
Discreet y-nogh his contree for to gye, 75
Save in somme thinges that he was to blame, (20)
And Walter was this yonge lordes name.