Of cruell deth a dolfull ymage

That all her beaute dyd perswage

 Full wonderous was her operacyon

In euery kynde eke and ryght degre

Withouten rest or recreacyon

I wyll not medle with her secrete

For it no thynge longeth to my faculte

But somwhat after I wyll expres

Of her grete power and worthynes

 But in my boke well for to procede

Dame dyscrecyon ferther me brought

Into a fayre chambre as ye may rede

Of fyne gemetry ryght well wrought

To comfort man there lacked nought

But that me thought there was no company

Saue onely dame dyscrecyon and I

||

 We had ben but a lytell whyle there

But that we sawe a lady clere

Ryght well appareled in sad gere

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