Me thoughte thus:--that hit was May, And in the dawning ther I lay, Me mette thus, in my bed al naked:-- [I] loked forth, for I was waked With smale foules a gret hepe, 295 That had affrayed me out of slepe Through noyse and swetnesse of hir song; And, as me mette, they sate among, Upon my chambre-roof withoute, Upon the tyles, al a-boute, 300 And songen, everich in his wyse, The moste solempne servyse By note, that ever man, I trowe, Had herd; for som of hem song lowe, Som hye, and al of oon acorde. 305 To telle shortly, at oo worde, Was never y-herd so swete a steven, But hit had be a thing of heven;-- So mery a soun, so swete entunes, That certes, for the toune of Tewnes, 310 I nolde but I had herd hem singe, For al my chambre gan to ringe Through singing of hir armonye. For instrument nor melodye Was nowher herd yet half so swete, 315 Nor of acorde half so mete; For ther was noon of hem that feyned To singe, for ech of hem him peyned To finde out mery crafty notes; They ne spared not hir throtes. 320 And, sooth to seyn, my chambre was Ful wel depeynted, and with glas Were al the windowes wel y-glased, Ful clere, and nat an hole y-crased, That to beholde hit was gret Ioye. 325 For hoolly al the storie of Troye Was in the glasing y-wroght thus, Of Ector and king Priamus, Of Achilles and Lamedon, Of Medea and of Iason, 330 Of Paris, Eleyne, and Lavyne. And alle the walles with colours fyne Were peynted, bothe text and glose, [Of] al the Romaunce of the Rose. My windowes weren shet echon, 335 And through the glas the sunne shon Upon my bed with brighte bemes, With many glade gilden stremes; And eek the welken was so fair, Blew, bright, clere was the air, 340 And ful atempre, for sothe, hit was; For nother cold nor hoot hit nas, Ne in al the welken was a cloude. And as I lay thus, wonder loude Me thoughte I herde an hunte blowe 345 Tassaye his horn, and for to knowe Whether hit were clere or hors of soune. I herde goinge, up and doune, Men, hors, houndes, and other thing; And al men speken of hunting, 350 How they wolde slee the hert with strengthe, And how the hert had, upon lengthe, So moche embosed, I not now what. Anon-right, whan I herde that, How that they wolde on hunting goon, 355 I was right glad, and up anoon; [I] took my hors, and forth I wente Out of my chambre; I never stente Til I com to the feld withoute. Ther overtook I a gret route 360 Of huntes and eek of foresteres, With many relayes and lymeres, And hyed hem to the forest faste, And I with hem;--so at the laste I asked oon, ladde a lymere:-- 365 Say, felow, who shal hunten here Quod I; and he answerde ageyn, Sir, themperour Octovien,' Quod he, 'and is heer faste by.' 'A goddes halfe, in good tyme,' quod I, 370 Go we faste!' and gan to ryde. Whan we came to the forest-syde, Every man dide, right anoon, As to hunting fil to doon. The mayster-hunte anoon, fot-hoot, 375 With a gret horne blew three moot At the uncoupling of his houndes. Within a whyl the hert [y]-founde is, Y-halowed, and rechased faste Longe tyme; and at the laste, 380 This hert rused and stal away Fro alle the houndes a prevy way. The houndes had overshote hem alle, And were on a defaute y-falle; Therwith the hunte wonder faste 385 Blew a forloyn at the laste. I was go walked fro my tree, And as I wente, ther cam by me A whelp, that fauned me as I stood, That hadde y-folowed, and coude no good. 390 Hit com and creep to me as lowe, Right as hit hadde me y-knowe, Hild doun his heed and Ioyned his eres, And leyde al smothe doun his heres. I wolde han caught hit, and anoon 395 Hit fledde, and was fro me goon; And I him folwed, and hit forth wente Doun by a floury grene wente Ful thikke of gras, ful softe and swete, With floures fele, faire under fete, 400 And litel used, hit seemed thus; For bothe Flora and Zephirus, They two that make floures growe, Had mad hir dwelling ther, I trowe; For hit was, on to beholde, 405 As thogh the erthe envye wolde To be gayer than the heven, To have mo floures, swiche seven As in the welken sterres be. Hit had forgete the povertee 410 That winter, through his colde morwes, Had mad hit suffren, and his sorwes; Al was forgeten, and that was sene. For al the wode was waxen grene, Swetnesse of dewe had mad it waxe. 415 Hit is no need eek for to axe Wher ther were many grene greves, Or thikke of trees, so ful of leves; And every tree stood by him-selve Fro other wel ten foot or twelve. 420 So grete trees, so huge of strengthe, Of fourty or fifty fadme lengthe, Clene withoute bough or stikke, With croppes brode, and eek as thikke-- They were nat an inche a-sonder-- 425 That hit was shadwe over-al under; And many an hert and many an hinde Was both before me and bihinde.