The surest signe, whereby ye may her know,
Is, that she is the fairest wight aliue, I trow.
Now certes swaine (said he) such one I weene, vi
Fast flying through this forest from her fo,
A foule ill fauoured foster, I haue seene;
Her selfe, well as I might, I reskewd tho,
But could not stay; so fast she did foregoe,
Carried away with wings of speedy feare.
Ah dearest God (quoth he) that is great woe,
And wondrous ruth to all, that shall it heare.