II.
Then the soft winds of summer, 516
After þe sesoun of somer wyth þe soft wynde3,
Quen 3eferus syfle3 hym-self on sede3 & erbe3,
Wela-wynne is þe wort þat woxes þer-oute.
When þe donkande dewe drope3 of þe leue3,
To bide a blysful blusch of þe bry3t sunne.
Bot þen hy3es heruest, & hardenes hym sone.
Warne3 hym for þe wynter to wax ful rype;
He dryues wyth dro3t þe dust for to ryse.
Fro þe face of þe folde to fly3e ful hy3e;
Wroþe wynde of þe welkyn wrastele3 with þe sunne,
Þe leue3 lancen fro þe lynde, & ly3ten on þe grounde,
& al grayes þe gres, þat grene wat3 ere;
Þenne al rype3 & rote3 þat ros vpon fyrst,
& þus 3irne3 þe 3ere in 3isterdaye3 mony,
& wynter wynde3 a3ayn, as þe worlde aske3
no sage.
Til me3el-mas mone,
Wat3 cumen wyth wynter wage;
Þen þenkke3 Gawan ful sone,
Of his anious uyage.