It was a lording's daughter, the fairest one of three,
That liked of her master as well as well might be.
Till looking on an Englishman, the fairest that eye could see,
Her fancy fell a turning.
Long was the combat doubtful, that love with love did fight,
To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant
To put in practice either, alas it was a spite
Unto the silly damsel.
But one must be refused, more mickle was the pain,
That nothing could be used, to turn them both to gain,
For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with disdain:
Alas, she could not help it!
Thus art, with arms contending , was victor
Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away;
Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay;
For now my song is ended.